Young  People's  Story 

of 
American  Literature 

Revised  Edition 
By 

Ida  Prentice  Whitcomb 

t     4 

Author  of  "A  Bunch  of  Wild  Flowers  for  the  Children/ 

"Heroes  of  History,"  "Young  People's  Story 

of  Art,"  "  Young  People's  Story 

of  Music,"  etc. 

With  Numerous  Illustrations 


New  York 
Dodd,  Mead  and  Company 

1922 


COPYRIGHT,  1913 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT,  1922 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY,  INC. 


PRINTED  IN   U.   S.   A. 


TO 

M.  P.  B. 


493378 


FOREWORD  OF  REVISED  EDITION 

Now,  in  1922,  a  new  edition  of  "Young  People's 
Story  of  American  Literature"  is  issued.  What  a 
wonderful  broadening  of  vision  since  the  beginning 
of  our  colonial  period  over  three  hundred  years  ago  I 

To-day  there  is  more  thoughtful  and  artistic  au- 
thorship than  ever  before.  Essayist  and  dramatist, 
biographer  and  historian,  scientist  and  philosopher, 
novelist  and  poet,  are  writing;  the  illustrator  is  busy 
with  brush  and  camera — and  everybody  reads.  The 
demand  is  great  and  our  literature  is  worthy  of 
consideration. 

Let  us  study  its  trend  from  the  characteristics  of 
a  few  representative  authors,  for  it  is  better  to  be 
familiar  with  the  work  of  a  few  rather  than  to  have 
scant  acquaintance  with  that  of  the  many. 

Which  are  the  best  we  may  not  know,  for  it  is 
never  possible  to  give  correct  perspective  of  con- 
temporary writers.  Keenest  critics  fail  in  judgment 
of  their  own  age. 

Amy  Lowell  says : 

"To-day  can  never  be  adequately  expressed  largely  because 
we  are  a  part  of  it  and  only  a  part" ; 

while  John  Jay  Chapman  thus  voices  his  views : 

"A  historian  cannot  get  his  mind  into  focus  upon  any- 
thing as  near  as  the  present." 


FOREWORD 

A  STORY  is  not  necessarily  bound  by  historical  per- 
spective; and  in  the  following  "Young  People's 
Story  of  American  Literature,"  the  aim  has  been 
three-fold:  First,  to  bring  into  clear  outline  such 
biographical  and  dramatic  elements  as  appeal  to 
young  people  and  stimulate  them  to  seek  further. 

Second,  to  incite  the  youth  and  maiden  in  com- 
mitting to  memory  poetic  selections.  These  faith- 
fully garnered  will  prove  a  rich  treasure. 

Third,  to  interest  the  student  in  visiting  the  shrines 
of  our  own  land  as  eagerly  as  those  abroad. 

In  collecting  materials  for  the  book,  the  writer 
has  been  enabled  through  great  courtesy  to  visit 
many  of  the  places  mentioned,  and  has  noted  much 
of  local  value  in  a  desire  to  add  colour  to  the  story. 
Every  shrine  visited  has  made  more  vivid  the  per- 
sonality associated  with  it. 

So  the  "  Firstly,  Secondly,  and  Thirdly,"  are  in 
brief:  To  seek  companionship  of  the  best  books;  to 
memorise  choice  poems;  and  to  make  pilgrimages 
to  the  homes  of  American  authors. 

The  writer  acknowledges,  with  thanks,  the  per- 
mission given  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company  to 


FOREWORD 

reprint  extracts  from  the  works  of  Whittier,  Low- 
ell, Longfellow,  Holmes,  Thoreau,  Stedman,  and 
others;  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons  to  quote  from  the 
poems  of  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke,  Eugene  Field, 
and  Sidney  Lanier;  by  Small,  Maynard  and  Company 
to  quote  short  extracts  from  the  poems  of  Rev.  John 
B.  Tabb;  by  Lothrop,  Lee  and  Shepard  Company 
to  quote  from  the  poems  of  Paul  Hamilton  Hayne; 
by  D.  Appleton  and  Company  to  quote  from  the 
poems  of  William  Cullen  Bryant;  and  by  Little, 
Brown  and  Company  to  quote  "  Poppies  in  the 
Wheat,"  copyright  1892,  by  Roberts  Brothers,  and 
also  some  short  quotations  from  other  poems  of 
Helen  Hunt  Jackson. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  BOOK i 

II    BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  STORY 4 

III  JAMESTOWN   AND   CAPTAIN   JOHN   SMITH    ....      6 

IV  OTHER  WRITERS  OF   THE   VIRGINIA   COLONY    .     .     .13 
V    PILGRIM  AND  PURITAN  CHRONICLERS 16 

VI    EARLY  THEOLOGIANS ,     ...    24 

VII    DIARISTS    AND    POETS 34 

VIII  -BENJAMIN  FRANKLIN 41 

IX    REVOLUTIONARY  LEADERS 55 

X    THE  NATION-BUILDERS 63 

XI    GLANCES  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD 72 

*-— 'XII    WASHINGTON  IRVING 76 

XIII  JAMES  FENIMORE  COOPER 90   . 

XIV  WILLIAM   CULLEN  BRYANT 101 

XV    SPASMODIC  POEMS  AND  SONGS 114 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 124 

XVII    WAR  LITERATURE 140 

XVIII    BANCROFT  AND  PRESCOTT 156 

XIX    MOTLEY  AND  PARKMAN 165 

XX  NEW  INFLUENCES  IN  PURITAN  NEW  ENGLAND  .     .     .175 

XXI    RALPH   WALDO  EMERSON 180 

XXII    HENRY  DAVID  THOREAU 196 

XXIII  NATHANIEL  HAWTHORNE 205 

XXIV  HENRY  WADSWORTH  LONGFELLOW 220 

XXV    JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL 240 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PACT 

XXVI    OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES ^    ^    .     .  256 

XXVII    EDGAR  ALLAN  POE 275 

XXVIII    OTHER  SOUTHERN  WRITERS 291 

XXIX    WESTERN  LITERATURE 304 

XXX    A  GROUP  OF  EASTERN  AUTHORS 318 

XXXI  WOMAN  IN  AMERICAN  LITERATURE — PART  FIRST   .     .335 

XXXII  WOMAN  IN  AMERICAN  LITERATURE — PART  SECOND     .  343 

XXXIII  NATURE  LOVERS—ESSAYISTS—HISTORIANS     .     .     .     .361 

XXXIV  NOVELISTS 369 

XXXV  POET*    ...............      386 

AFTERWORD     ..............  402 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


The  Orchard  House:  Home  of  the  Alcotts   .     .     .        Frontispiece 

FACING 

PAGE 

Evolution  of  the  Book:  Cairn,  Oral,  Hieroglyphics  ....  a 
Evolution  of  the  Book:  Pictograph,  Manuscript,  Printing  Press  4 

Monument  to  Capt.  John  Smith,  Jamestown,  Va 10 

Gov.   John    Winthrop 18 

Cotton  Mather x8 

John    Eliot 18 

Jonathan   Edwards xS 

National  Monument,  Plymouth,  Mass 36 

Thomas  Jefferson 44 

Alexander    Hamilton 44 

Benjamin  Franklin 44 

Samuel    Sewall .     .     44 

Page  from  Poor  Richard's  Almanac,  September,  1738    ...     52 

Washington    Irving 78 

J.  Fcnimore  Cooper 78 

Fitz-Greene   Hallock 78 

William   Cullen   Bryant .     78 

Sunnyside:  Home  of  Washington  Irving 86 

Monument  to  J.  Feniraore  Cooper,  Cooperstown,  N.  Y.  .  .  .  96 
William  Cullen  Bryant  Memorial,  Bryant  Park,  New  York  .  .  108 
John  Howard  Payne's  "Home  Sweet  Home,"  East  Hampton,  L.  I.  118 
Home  of  John  Greenleaf  Whittier,  Amesbury,  Mass  .  .  .  .130 

William  Lloyd   Garrison 142 

Daniel  Webster 142 

Henry   Clay 142 

Harriet  Beecher  Stowe 142 

Lincoln  Emancipation  Statue  at  Washington,  D.  C 150 

Francis    Parkman 160 

John  Lothrop   Motley 160 

George  Bancroft 160 

William  H.  Prescott 160 

School  of  Philosophy,  Concord,  Mass 176 

Ralph  Waldo  Emerson 184 

Nathaniel   Hawthorne 184 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

Henry  David  Thoreau 184 

Louisa    M.    Alcott 184 

Home  of  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson,  Concord,  Mass 192 

The  Thoreau  Cairn  and  Thoreau  Cove,  Lake  Walden  .     .     .198 

Old  Manse,    Concord,    Mass 208 

The  Wayside:  Home  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  Concord,  Mass.  216 

Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow 222 

James  Russell   Lowell 222 

Oliver    Wendell    Holmes 222 

John   Greenleaf   Whittier 222 

Craigie   House:  Home   of   Henry   W.  Longfellow,   Cambridge, 

Mass 232 

Elmwood:  Home  of  James  Russell  Lowell,  Cambridge,  Mass  .  248 

Edgar    Allan    Poe 276 

Sidney   Lanier 276 

Paul  H.  Hayne  .     .     .     . .     .     .276 

Rev.  John  B.  Tabb 376 

Poe's  Cottage  at  Fordham,  New  York  City 284 

Samuel  L.  Clemens 308 

Francis   Bret   Harte 308 

Eugene  Field 308 

Henry  Cuyler  Bunner 308 

Edward  Clarence   Stedman 320 

Bayard    Taylor 320 

Thomas   Bailey  Aldrich 320 

Walt   Whitman 320 

Edward  Everett  Hale 330 

Frank  R.  Stockton 330 

William   Dean    Howells 330 

F.    Marion    Crawford 330 

Celia  L.  Thaxter 340 

Sarah    Orne    Jewett 340 

Helen  Hunt  Jackson 340 

Mary  Mapes  Dodge 340 


"  Books  are  keys  to  wisdom's  treasure ; 
Books  are  gates  to  lands  of  pleasure; 
Books  are  paths  that  upward  lead; 
Books  are  friends,  come,  let  us  read !  " 

— POULSSON. 


THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  BOOK 

AN  English  author  rightly  traces  the  origin  of  the 
book  to  the  depth  of  some  Asiatic  forest,  where  centu- 
ries agone  a  rude  savage  stood,  thorn  in  hand,  etching 
upon  a  leaf  —  perhaps  torn  from  a  giant  palm  —  a 
symbol  by  which  to  commemorate  either  joy  or  strug- 
gle in  his  simple  life;  and  thus  the  tree  became  the 
parent  of  the  book  —  the  word  "  book  "  being  de- 
rived from  the  beech  with  its  smooth  and  silvery  bark, 
found  by  our  Saxon  forefathers  in  the  German  forest, 
and  the  leaf  explains  itself. 

Another  more  pictorial  illustration  of  the  origin 
of  the  book,  we  find  in  a  series  of  six  panels,  painted 
by  Mr.  John  W.  Alexander,  of  New  York,  in  the 
new  Congressional  Library,  at  Washington. 

In  the  first  of  these  expressive  frescoes,  prehis- 
toric man  erects  upon  the  seashore  a  rough  cairn  of 
boulders.  The  task  is  laborious,  but  he  must  needs 
make  his  record. 

In  the  second,  the  Oriental  story-teller  dramatic- 
ally relates  his  tale  to  a  group  of  absorbed  listeners : 
this  typifies  oral  tradition. 

Again  we  look,  and  the  Egyptian  stone-cutter 
chisels  his  hieroglyphics  upon  the  face  of  a  tomb. 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

His  cutting  is  vigorous  and  incisive  —  his  tale  is 
made  to  live. 

Yet  another,  and  a  graceful  American  Indian 
paints  upon  a  buffalo-skin  the  pictograph,  which  rep- 
resents the  war-trail  or  the  chase. 

We  next  glance  into  the  dim  scriptorium  where 
the  monastic  scribe  patiently  illuminates  his  manu- 
script; and  as  the  final  evolution,  Gutenberg  eagerly 
scans  the  proof  that  has  just  come  from  the  printing- 
press  —  his  gift  to  the  world. 

So  from  prehistoric  age  to  twentieth  century,  leaf, 
cairn  and  altar,  oral  tradition,  hieroglyphic  and 
pictograph,  waxed  tablet,  illuminated  manuscript 
and  printing-press  —  have  all  had  part  in  leading 
up  to  the  book  —  the  ultimate  triumph  of  modern 
thought. 

And  the  book  is  the  vehicle  of  literature;  and  the 
literature  that  it  holds  is  the  reflection  and  repro- 
duction alike  of  the  intellect  and  deed  of  the  people. 

Honest  John  Morley  says :  - 

"  Poets,  dramatists,  humorists,  satirists,  historians,  masters 
of  fiction,  great  preachers,  character-writers,  political  ora- 
tors, maxim-writers  —  all  are  literature." 

The  story  of  literature  is  a  curious  and  varied 
one  that  has  unravelled  century  by  century  as  Egypt, 
Assyria,  Persia,  China  and  India,  Greece  and  Rome, 
and  the  more  modern  countries,  have  in  turn  added 
their  records. 


EGYPTIAN    HIEROGLYPHICS 

Copyright,  by  Curtis  A  Cameron 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  BOOK 

MURAL  DECORATIONS  IN  THE  CONGRESSIONAL  LIBRARY,  BY  JOHN  W.  ALEXANDER 


THE   EVOLUTION    OF   THE   BOOK 

Our  subject  is  American  literature.  This,  how- 
ever, being  but  a  branch  of  English  literature,  we 
join  in  the  ranks  and  inspiration  of  that  long  and 
splendid  procession,  which,  for  twelve  hundred  years, 
has  been  marching  along. 

Our  environment,  it  is  true,  has  been  different: 
another  land  and  climate  and  social  organisation, 
with  democratic  political  problems  to  solve;  but  all 
the  same,  we,  too,  claim  ancestral  right  in  Chaucer 
and  Spenser  and  Shakespeare  and  Milton  —  and 
English  literature  is  indeed  our  glorious  heritage. 

And  as  we  consider  the  work  of  our  up-to-date 
author,  seated  in  his  library  —  running  his  fingers 
lightly  over  the  keys  of  his  typewriter  —  let  us  not 
forget  the  gratitude  due  to  that  primitive  savage, 
who,  in  the  fragrant  woodland,  traced  his  inspira- 
tion upon  the  leaf  of  a  tree,  and  thus  took  the  first 
step  in  the  evolution  of  the  book. 


II 

BEGINNINGS  OF  THE  STORY 

AMERICAN  literature  —  where  does  it  begin  ? 
Surely  not  among  the  prehistoric  mound-builders 
whose  instruments  and  ornaments  are  unearthed  to- 
day. They  builded  their  homes,  tilled  their  soil, 
and  worked  their  mines,  but  thus  their  record  sadly 
ends :  "  They  had  no  poet  and  they  died." 

Next,  in  historic  sequence,  we  glance  at  the  In- 
dian, who  is  becoming  to-day  more  and  more  to  the 
American  author  a  theme  of  romance.  What  was 
his  contribution  to  the  literature  of  an  aboriginal 
age?  It  was  scanty  indeed  —  but  it  formed  a  be- 
ginning; for  his  speech  and  songs  of  magic  and  love 
displayed  bold  courage  and  an  eloquent  symbolism 
that  we  may  not  overlook. 

The  following,  taken  from  Dr.  Schoolcraft's 
"  Indian  Tribes  "  is  an  expressive  illustration:  — 

"  My  love  is  tall  and  graceful  as  the  young  pine  waving 
on  the  hill,  and  as  swift  in  his  course  as  the  noble,  stately 
deer;  his  hair  is  flowing  and  dark,  as  the  blackbird  that 
floats  through  the  air,  and  his  eyes  like  the  eagle's,  both 
piercing  and  bright;  his  heart,  it  is  fearless  and  great,  and 
his  arm,  it  is  strong  in  the  fight,  as  this  bow  made  of  iron 
wood  which  he  easily  bends.  His  aim  is  as  sure  in  the 
fight  and  chase  as  the  hawk  which  ne'er  misses  its  prey. 

4 


PRINTING   PRESS 
Copyright,  by  Curtis  &  Cameron 

THE  EVOLUTION  OF  THE  BOOK 

MURAL  DECORATIONS  IN  THE  CONGRESSIONAL  LIBRARY,  BY  JOHN  W.   ALEXANDER 


BEGINNINGS   OF   THE   STORY 

Ah,  aid  me,  ye  spirits!  of  water,  of  earth,  and  of  sky,  while 
I  sing  his  praise." 

Leaving  behind  us  the  mound-builder  and  the  In- 
dian, we  next  consider  true  American  literature, 
which  is  divided  into  three  periods:  Colonial,  Revo- 
lutionary, and  National. 

The  Colonial  began  in  America  when  in  u  Merrie 
England  "  the  golden  "  Elizabethan  Age  "  was  at 
its  height:  when  Shakespeare  was  unfolding  his  mar- 
vellous creations,  and  when  Spenser  sang  of  his 
"  Fairie  Queene,"  England  disporting  itself  alike 
in  drama  and  pageant. 

Colonial  literature  here  forms  striking  contrast 
to  the  brilliant  period  abroad,  and  it  must  have  small 
space  in  our  scheme,  compared  to  that  we  must  give 
to  Revolutionary  and  National;  and  yet  there  is 
revealed  in  it  to-day  an  increasing  interest.  We 
hear  much  of  Colonial  Dames  and  houses  and  archi- 
tecture and  historic  data. 

Truly  these  colonists  "  builded  better  than  they 
knew,"  and  our  first  duty  must  be  to  trace  the  earlier 
foot-prints  which  they  made. 


Ill 

JAMESTOWN   AND   CAPTAIN   JOHN   SMITH 

COLONIAL  literature  has  two  divisions:  one  treats 
of  u  Jamestown  and  the  Cavalier  " — the  other  of 
"  Plymouth,  the  Pilgrim,  and  the  Puritan."  We 
consider  "  Jamestown  and  the  Cavalier "  first,  for 
this  was  the  earlier. 

It  was  in  the  winter  of  1606,  that  a  party  of 
romantic  aristocrats,  unruly  gallants,  mechanics  and 
farmers,  and  beggars  pushed  thither  by  friends  — 
adventurers  all  —  set  out  in  a  pigmy  fleet  of  three 
ships  from  England  for  America.  They  were  under 
a  charter  to  a  London  Company  to  seek  here  gold 
mines  and  precious  stones. 

Four  months  they  sailed  over  three  thousand 
miles  of  unknown  sea,  and  finally  in  April,  1607, 
were  driven  by  storm  into  a  large  river,  its  shores 
blooming  with  dogwood  and  redbud,  and  on  a  bright 
day,  they  landed  on  the  bank  at  a  perilous  spot;  and 
James  River  and  Jamestown  were  later  named  in 
honour  of  their  illustrious  English  King. 

This  was  the  region  which  the  chivalrous  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  —  the  dauntless  sailor  —  had  pre- 
viously penetrated  in  one  of  his  futile  attempts  to 
colonise  North  America;  and  though  he  had  not 

6 


JAMESTOWN   AND   CAPTAIN    SMITH 

conquered,  he  had  succeeded  in  christening  the  land 
Virginia,  in  gratitude  to  his  "  Virgin  Queen,"  and 
this  name  yet  binds  Virginia  to  the  Mother  Country. 

And  as  at  Jamestown  our  forbears  disembarked 
—  the  dense  wilderness  behind,  the  wide  ocean  be- 
fore —  how  little  they  realised  the  boundless  future  I 
With  the  exception  of  Gosnold  and  Captain  John 
Smith,  they  knew  nothing  of  leadership,  but  many 
of  them  were  manly  men  who  loved  liberty  and  ad- 
venture. The  struggle  was  bitterly  waged  against 
famine  and  the  Indians;  but  out  of  all,  the  Virginia 
colony  was  established — the  first  permanent  English 
settlement  in  North  America. 

There  may  have  been  imaginative,  resourceful 
spirits  among  these  pioneers,  but  what  wonder  that 
they  had  scant  leisure  for  literary  pursuits  —  for 
drama  or  pageant  or  smooth  narrative.  No  poet  or 
novelist  could  assert  himself.  These  were  days  of 
action  not  thought;  and  yet  in  compacts  and  journals 
and  letters  home,  we  may  discover,  even  at  this 
remote  date,  the  beginnings  of  our  story  of  Ameri- 
can literature  —  for  we  at  once  descry  the  picturesque 
figure  of  the  redoubtable  John  Smith  —  soldier, 
captain,  governor,  saviour  and  historian,  of  the 
colony. 

He  stands  at  the  gateway  of  American  literature 
just  as  the  old  tramp-explorer,  Sir  John  Mandeville, 
stood  three  hundred  years  before,  at  the  gateway  of 
English  literature. 

7 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

A  born  fighter  was  this  Lincolnshire  boy,  who 
very  early  ran  away  from  home,  "  foreign  countries 
for  to  see."  He  fought  in  France,  the  Netherlands, 
and  Italy;  he  fought  the  Spanish,  Tartars  and 
Turks;  and  blazoned  on  his  escutcheon  were  the 
heads  of  three  Turkish  champions  that  he  had  sev- 
ered in  single  combat. 

He  encountered  shipwreck  and  slavery;  and  a 
veritable  knight-errant  of  English  chivalry,  he  re- 
turned to  London,  at  the  age  of  twenty-five  —  a 
battle-scarred  hero. 

Then  catching  Gosnold's  enthusiasm,  he  was 
seized  with  a  mania  for  colonisation,  and  being  just 
in  time,  he  started  in  1607,  with  the  motley  crew 
for  Jamestown.  They  sailed  for  the  riches  of  the 
South  Sea  —  they  found  as  their  "  El  Dorado  "  only 
cotton  and  tobacco;  but  dependable  Captain  Smith 
endured  hardships  and  disappointments  with  opti- 
mism. 

In  his  little  pinnace,  Discovery,  he  explored  the 
Virginian  bays,  so  carefully  surveying  the  coast, 
that  among  his  works  he  published,  in  1612,  "  A 
Map  of  Virginia,  with  a  Description  of  the  Country, 
the  Commodities,  People,  Government,  and  Reli- 
gion " —  a  voluminous  title,  but  it  was  a  fashion  in 
those  days  to  make  a  title  a  summary  of  the  contents 
of  a  book. 

Captain  Smith  bartered  so  skilfully  with  the  In- 
dians that  he  kept  the  colony  from  starvation.  His 

8 


JAMESTOWN   AND   CAPTAIN    SMITH 

services  were  of  unquestioned  value:  at  one  time 
governor  —  at  another  barely  escaping  the  gallows 
—  his  zeal  being  always  greater  than  his  discretion. 

After  hundred  of  settlers  had  been  added  to  the 
colony,  he  was  removed;  returning  afterwards  to 
explore  the  New  England  shores,  he  received  from 
King  James  the  tide  "  Admiral  of  New  England." 
All  told,  he  was  in  America  less  than  three  years. 

Captain  Smith's  life  did  not  seem  adapted  to  lite- 
rary achievement,  but  he  wrote  two  booklets  here 
which  gave  him  a  place  in  colonial  literature.  His 
other  works  belong  to  the  long,  quieter  years  that 
followed  his  going  back  to  England. 

It  is  strange  to  think  of  the  hardy  soldier,  seated 
in  his  aboriginal  hut  of  logs  and  mud,  and  on  an  im- 
provised desk  with  goose-quill  pen,  recounting  his 
deeds.  His  apology  is,  that  he  "  admired  those 
whose  pens  had  writ  what  their  swords  had  done." 
He  explained  that  he  could  not  "  write  as  a  clerk,  but 
as  a  soldier,"  and  he  begs  his  friends  and  well- 
wishers  to  accept  the  results! 

There  being  no  printing-press  in  America,  his  first 
writings  appeared  in  London,  in  1608  —  the  year 
that  Milton  was  born.  Eight  volumes,  large  and 
small,  related  to  Virginia,  giving  account  "  of  Such 
Occurrences  and  Accidents  of  Note  as  hath  Hap- 
pened "  there.  In  fact,  Captain  Smith  must  not  only 
have  interested  others  in  book-making  but  also 
tempted  many  to  the  colony. 

9 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

His  best  book,  "  A  General  History  of  Virginia,'5 
is  a  rough-hewn  recountal  of  the  initial  contact  with 
the  wilderness,  made  by  the  adventurous  pen  of  one 
who  was  always  the  centre  of  the  adventures!  His 
fault  was  boastfulness  —  but  had  he  not  a  right  to 
glory  in  his  great  deeds? 

In  speaking  of  Virginia,  he  quaintly  says :  — 

"  There  is  but  one  entrance  into  this  country,  and  that 
is  at  the  mouth  of  a  goodly  bay  eighteen  or  twenty  miles 
broad.  .  .  .  Within  is  a  country  that  may  have  the 
prerogative  over  the  most  pleasant  places  known,  for  earth 
and  heaven  never  agreed  better  to  frame  a  place  for  man's 
habitation.  The  mildness  of  the  air,  the  fertility  of  the 
soil,  and  the  situation  of  the  rivers  are  as  propitious  to  the 
use  of  man,  as  no  place  is  more  convenient  for  pleasure, 
profit,  and  man's  sustenance,  under  any  latitude  or  climate. 
So,  then,  here  is  a  place,  a  nurse  for  soldiers,  a  practice  for 
mariners,  a  trade  for  merchants,  a  reward  for  the  good,  and 
that  which  is  most  of  all,  a  business  to  bring  such  poor  in- 
fidels to  the  knowledge  of  God  and  His  Holy  Gospel." 

Recall  these  words  to-day!  Think  of  his  Old 
Point  Comfort  —  of  the  many  that  have  since  found 
comfort  within  its  harbour;  and  of  its  Military 
School  which  has  become  truly  "  a  nurse  for  sol- 
diers"; of  Hampton  Roads  and  "its  practice  for 
mariners";  of  "the  trade  for  merchants,"  at  New- 
port News  and  Norfolk;  and  best  of  all,  of  the 
gracious  Hampton  Institute,  with  its  civilising  and 
Christianising  influences.  Was  not  Captain  Smith, 

10 


MONUMENT  TO  CAPT.  JOHN  SMITH,  JAMESTOWN,  VA. 


JAMESTOWN   AND   CAPTAIN    SMITH 

with  everything  else,   gifted  with  prophetic  vision? 

Besides,  he  first  gave  the  Indian  to  American  lit- 
erature, for  you  remember  that  he  lived  long  before 
Cooper  and  Longfellow.  For  the  race  in  general, 
he  had  no  respect.  He  dubs  the  Indian  as  incon- 
stant, crafty,  cautious  and  covetous,  quick-tempered, 
malicious  and  treacherous.  He  made  an  exception, 
however,  in  his  Pocahontas  story;  it  may  be  a  myth 
but  it  is  his  finest  bit  of  colouring. 

How  vivid  is  the  picture  of  his  capture  by  Pow- 
hatan  —  his  rescue  by  the  beautiful  maiden;  of  her 
bringing  corn  to  the  famished  colonists,  and  her 
later  royal  reception  in  London  as  the  daughter  of 
an  Indian  king.  It  is  the  first  dramatic  tale  that 
comes  into  American  literature. 

John  Smith  began  his  literary  work  when  Shakes- 
peare was.  writing;  he,  too,  was  a  dramatist,  but  in 
a  different  way.  While  some  of  his  descriptions 
border  on  the  marvellous,  he  is  always  able  to  make 
up  in  romance  what  he  lacks  in  history,  and  his  com- 
positions have  done  more  to  preserve  his  fame  than 
his  brave  doings. 

His  enemies  accused  him  of  exaggeration,  saying 
that  "  He  writ  too  much,  and  done  too  little."  But 
whatever  he  "  writ "  and  whatever  he  "done,"  his 
chivalrous  narrative  is  a  most  valuable  literary  relic. 

We  do  not  like  to  think  that  Captain  John  Smith, 
our  earnest  chronicler,  "  died  poor  and  neglected  in 
England," — but  so  it  is  told. 

ii 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  "  English  Drayton  "  in  a  "  spirited  valedic- 
tory "  to  the  three  ship-loads  of  heroic  fortune- 
hunters  who  had  sailed  from  England,  in  1606, 
prophesies  for  them  a  literary  future :  — 

"  And  as  there  plenty  grows 

Of  laurel  everywhere, — 
Apollo's  sacred  tree  — 
You  it  may  see 
A  poet's  brows 
To  crown,  that  may  sing  there." 


IV 

OTHER  WRITERS  OF  THE  VIRGINIA  COLONY 

AND  there  were  other  attempts  besides  that  of  Cap- 
tain John  Smith  to  leave  to  posterity  a  literary  rec- 
ord. William  Strachey,  secretary  of  the  colony, 
wrote  and  sent  to  London,  in  1610,  a  manuscript, 
telling  of  a  fierce  storm  and  shipwreck  off  the  Ber- 
muda Islands  — "  the  still  vex'd  Bermoothes  " ;  and 
this  thrilling  description,  it  is  thought,  may  have 
furnished  a  plot  to  Shakespeare  in  "  The  Tempest." 

George  Sandys,  treasurer  of  the  colony,  working 
sometimes  by  the  light  of  a  pine  knot,  made  a  most 
imaginative  translation  of  Ovid's  "  Metamorphoses." 

And  there  were  later  adventurers  and  annalists: 
among  them,  Colonel  William  Byrd,  a  wealthy  and 
brilliant  man,  and  an  amateur  in  literature,  who,  in 
1736,  when  writing  the  history  of  his  experience  in 
running  a  dividing  line  between  Virginia  and  North 
Carolina,  gives  a  pleasant  picture  of  colonial  life; 
but  he  says : — 

"They  import  so  many  negroes  hither,  that  I  fear  the 
colony  will,  some  time  or  other,  be  known  by  the  name  of 
'  New  Guinea.'  " 

Bacon's  Rebellion  was  one  of  the  most  striking 

13 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

episodes  in  these  anti-Revolutionary  times;  and  in 
1676,  "The  Burwell  Papers"  described  it,  and  in 
these  appeared  some  elegiac  verses  on  the  death  of 
Nathaniel  Bacon. 

So  Virginia,  the  "  Cradle  of  the  Republic,"  be- 
came, also,  the  "  Cradle  "  of  a  literature  associated 
with  noble  names. 

Many  of  the  colonists  came  from  the  titled  ranks 
of  English  society.  They  were  the  originators  of 
the  "  F.  F.  V's,"  or  "  First  Families  of  Virginia/' 
and  strongly  bound  both  to  royalty  and  the  Estab- 
lished Church.  Instead  of  building  many  towns, 
these  planters  spent  a  manorial  existence  on  their 
broad  estates,  devoting  their  free  and  careless  hours 
to  fox-hunting,  horse-racing,  and  cock-fighting. 

Robert  Beverly,  in  his  "  History  of  Virginia," 
published  in  1705,  emphasises  Southern  hospitality. 
Indeed,  this  was  one  of  the  strongest  traits  in  the 
character  of  the  planter.  Families  of  ample  means 
sent  their  sons  abroad  to  be  educated;  and  the  court- 
house rather  than  the  school  was  the  nucleus  of  social 
and  political  life. 

It  was  proposed  early  in  the  seventeenth  century 
to  build  a  University,  and  some  Englishmen  donated 
the  money  for  the  purchase  of  the  land ;  but  a  terrible 
Indian  massacre  interfered.  So  William  and  Mary 
College  was  not  begun  at  Williamsburg  until  1660, 
and  did  not  receive  its  charter  until  1693.  ^  was 
closely  fashioned  after  Oxford,  in  England;  and 

14 


WRITERS   OF   VIRGINIA   COLONY 

James  Blair,  its  founder,  and  author  of  "  The 
Present  State  of  Virginia/'  was  a  man  alike  of  force 
and  intellect.  And  many  more  old  chroniclers  there 
were  who  wrote  about  Virginia,  the  State  destined 
later  on  to  be  "  The  Mother  of  Presidents." 
Doubtless,  their  documents  are  historically  valuable 
but  they  would  form  curious  reading  for  us. 

And  what  may  we  find  in  Jamestown  to-day  to 
help  us  recall  our  earliest  colonial  literature?  Only 
a  few  indefinite  relics.  Captain  Smith  selected  this 
as  "  a  fit  place  for  a  great  city,"  but  it  proved  too 
marshy  and  unhealthful.  The  land,  however,  has 
been  recently  set  apart  by  the  "  Virginia  Antiquarian 
Society,"  in  order  to  preserve  the  ruins. 

Among  them,  there  is  seen  under  water  the  re- 
mains of  a  powder-house  built  by  Captain  Smith. 
There  are,  also,  some  graves  in  an  ancient  burial- 
ground.  The  most  attractive  thing  is  an  old  church 
tower,  which  legend  says  stands  upon  the  spot  where, 
under  a  sail  stretched  between  the  trees,  the  colonists 
first  worshipped.  Near  this  to-day  is  a  statue  of 
valorous  John  Smith,  whose  pluck  and  daring  laid 
the  foundation  of  our  earliest  literary  structure.  The 
inscription  reads:  "  So  thou  art  brass  without  but  gold 
within." 


V 

PILGRIM  AND  PURITAN  CHRONICLERS 

JAMESTOWN  and  Plymouth  were  the  rallying-points 
of  very  distinct  ideals  in  this  dawn  of  American  civ- 
ilisation, and  the  contrast  was  typical  even  in  the 
landing  of  Cavaliers  and  Pilgrims. 

The  former  arrived  in  Virginia,  amid  the  blossom 
and  fragrance  of  the  Southern  spring-time,  while  the 
Pilgrims,  in  1620,  thirteen  years  later,  disembarked 
in  the  dead  of  winter  on  the  bleak  New  England 
coast  —  50  bleak  that  in  a  few  months  there  were 
but  forty-four  survivors  of  the  hundred  who  had 
come  on  the  Mayflower. 

Stern  men  were  these  Pilgrims!  Having  earlier 
opposed  the  Established  Church,  they  had  been 
"  harried  out  of  England,  by  King  James  I,  and 
after  toilsome  years  in  Holland,  the  little  company 
set  sail  for  America  —  not  seeking  gold  and  gems 
like  the  Cavaliers  but  just  *  Freedom  to  worship 
God.' '  And  with  the  Puritans  who  landed  with 
Winthrop,  in  1630,  they  were  for  nearly  two  cen- 
turies masters  of  the  religious,  political,  and  literary 
life  of  New  England. 

These  devout  Old  Testament  heroes  laboured  with 
desperate  zeal,  for  time  was  too  solemn  to  be  frit- 

16 


PILGRIM,   PURITAN   CHRONICLERS 

tered  away.  Narrow  and  bigoted,  of  restrained 
speech,  they  had  come  to  enjoy  religious  liberty  — 
never  to  give  it!  Those  who  dared  differ  from 
them  must  follow  their  example  and  seek  other  lands. 
In  truth,  these  fanatical  nation-builders  commended 
the  persecution  of  witches,  and  forbade  Friends  and 
Baptists  to  join  them. 

Yet  with  all  their  fanaticism  and  all  their  mistakes 
—  they  planted  "  a  Government  by  the  People,  a 
Church  without  a  Bishop,  a  State  without  a  King." 
Perhaps  they  did  this  more  securely,  because  their 
vision  was  bounded  by  theology,  law,  and  education. 

Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  was  their  first  settle- 
ment, and  hardly  were  their  primitive  cabins  built 
here  before  the  rectangular  meeting-house  topped 
the  hill;  and  on  its  flat  roof  small  cannon  were 
placed,  making  it  at  once  a  military  as  well  as  reli- 
gious post.  Summoned  to  church  by  the  drum-beat, 
it  was  compulsory  to  go}  and  none  were  freemen 
until  they  became  church  members. 

Every  man  carried  his  gun,  and  with  the  Indian 

rer  in  the  foreground,  spiritual  warfare  was  too 
iften  converted  into  earthly  conflict.  The  Bible  was 
le  text-book;  the  sermon  might  easily  be  from 
two  to  four  hours  long,  and  the  prayers,  too,  were 
lengthy  and  profound. 

At  first,  the  congregation  did  not  sing,  for  sing- 
ing turned  the  mind  from  God;  but  Rev.  John  Cot- 
ton investigated  the  subject  under  several  heads,  and 

17 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

citing  as  an  illustration  that  Paul  and  Silas  sang 
Psalms  in  prison,  it  was  finally  decided  that  the 
Puritans  might  sing,  too. 

Several  divines  assisted  in  making  a  metrical  ver- 
sion of  the  Book  of  Psalms.  In  doing  this,  they 
were  faithful  to  the  original  Hebrew,  and  the  ver- 
sion was  inharmonious,  without  poetic  grace,  the 
apology  being: —  . 

"We  have  respected  rather  a  plaine  translation  then  to 
smooth  our  verses  with  the  sweetness  of  any  paraphrases 
and  soe  have  attended  conscience  rather  than  elegance. 
.  .  .  That  soe  we  may  sing  in  Sion  the  Lord's  songs  of 
prayse  according  to  his  owne  will;  until  hee  take  us  from 
hence  and  wipe  away  all  our  teares,  and  bid  us  enter  our 
Master's  ioye  to  sing  eternall  Hallehuiahs." 

The  "  Bay  Psalm  Book "  was  one  of  the  very 
first  books  printed  in  America.  It  came  from  the 
Cambridge  Press,  in  1640.  When  it  was  used  the 
Psalms  were  lined  off,  two  lines  at  a  time,  and  this 
was  followed  by  the  command  "Sing!"  To-day 
the  "  Bay  Psalm  Book  "  is  a  curiosity  of  literature. 
Here  is  one  of  the  paraphrases :  — 

"  How  good  and  sweet,  O  see 
For  brethren  'tis  to  dwell 

As  one  in  unity! 
It's  like  choice  oyl  that  fell 

The  head  upon 
That  down  the  beard  unto 
Beard  of  Aaron." 
18 


GOV.    JOHN     WINTHROP 


PILGRIM,    PURITAN    CHRONICLERS 

It  may  be  added  that  attendance  at  service  was 
the  only  amusement  shared  by  the  sanctimonious 
Pilgrims,  and  from  it  came  strength  for  the  weekly 
conflict.  To  them,  "  Remember  the  Sabbath  day,  to 
keep  it  holy  "  held  a  meaning  quite  unknown  now. 
New  Englanders  may  well  be  proud  of  such  ancestry, 
and  yet  congratulate  themselves  that  they  did  not 
belong  to  the  earlier  generations. 

Literature  in  these  days  was  the  handmaid  of  re- 
ligion, and  attendance  at  school  was  as  obligatory  as 
at  church.  Settlements  of  fifty  families  were  com- 
pelled to  establish  a  school  —  if  there  were  a  hun- 
dred, it  must  be  a  grammar-school. 

In  1636,  Cambridge  College  was  founded.  It 
did  not  receive  —  like  William  and  Mary,  in  Vir- 
ginia —  rich  gifts  from  English  donors;  but  the  four 
hundred  pounds  with  which  it  was  started  were  gotten 
in  New  England.  Two  years  later,  by  bequest  of 
John  Harvard,  a  young  Charlestown  minister,  the 
college  had  an  endowment  fund  of  three  thousand 
five  hundred  dollars,  and  three  hundred  volumes 
constituting  his  entire  library. 

In  1639,  it  was  ordered  that  "  the  college  agreed 
upon  formerly  to  bee  built  at  Cambridg  shal  bee 
called  Harvard  Colledge,"  in  honour  of  its  first 
benefactor;  and  in  1650,  the  institution  was  char- 
tered "  for  the  education  of  the  English  and  Indian 
youth  of  the  country  in  knowledge  and  godlyness." 

Nearly  a  hundred  years  after  John  Harvard's 

19 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

death,  the  alumni  of  Harvard  University  erected  a 
monument  to  his  memory  in  the  burial-ground  of 
Charlestown,  dedicated  with  an  address  by  Edward 
Everett. 

Yale  College  was  founded  in  1700,  and  its  library 
was  begun  at  a  meeting  of  Connecticut  ministers, 
each  depositing  forty  books  upon  a  table,  declaring 
as  he  laid  them  down :  "  I  give  these  books  for  the 
founding  of  a  college  in  this  colony."  A  commem- 
orative stone  may  be  seen  at  Saybrook,  Connecticut, 
the  original  site  of  the  college. 

We  are  reminded  of  Burges  Johnson's  words :  • — 

"  The  little  Yankee  colleges,   God   bless  them   heart  and 

soul  — 

Each  little  lump  of  leaven  that  leaveneth  the  whole ; 
What  need  of  mighty  numbers  if  they  fashion,  one  by  one, 
The  men  who  do  the  little  things  a-needing  to  be  done?  " 

And  from  the  "  stern  and  rock-bound  "  New  Eng- 
land coast  —  the  land  of  the  evening  lamp  and  the 
winter  fire  —  has  come  to  us  a  more  abundant  litera- 
ture than  from  the  "  Sunny  South."  Weighty  tomc$ 
there  are  with  cumbersome  titles  that  belong  to  the 
seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries;  and  while  our 
literature  of  to-day  concerns  itself  chiefly  with  the 
nineteenth  and  twentieth  centuries,  we  must,  in  order 
to  get  the  continuity  of  our  subject,  take  from  the  top 
shelf  of  the  dark  closet  a  few  of  these  dusty  record- 
ings, and  glance  at  the  men  who  penned  them. 

20 


PILGRIM,    PURITAN    CHRONICLERS 

Governor  Bradford  —  himself  a  Mayflower 
passenger  —  was  an  inveterate  diarist.  He  ruled 
the  Province  from  1621  to  1657,  anc*  it  is  said  that 
he  managed  the  affairs  with  the  discretion  of  a  Wash- 
ington. He  was  the  skilful  diplomat  who  —  during 
a  famine  when  a  chief  sent  to  the  colony  a  bundle  of 
arrows  tied  in  a  serpent's  skin  —  returned  the  skin 
crammed  with  powder  and  bullets. 

Governor  Bradford  appears  here  not  because  of 
his  political  wisdom,  but  as  the  author  of  his  unique 
"  History  of  Plymouth  Plantation."  This  was  not 
written  in  Captain  John  Smith's  boastful  style,  but 
just  as  a  quaint,  vigorous,  straightforward  chronicle, 
inspired  by  piety. 

It  describes  feelingly  the  persecution  in  England; 
the  departure  for  Holland;  the  setting  forth  from 
Delfthaven;  the  perils  encountered  on  the  furious 
ocean;  the  compact  and  the  landing;  the  desolate 
wilds  and  famine ;  the  sufferings  and  death-roll  of  the 
first  winter;  troubles  and  treaties  with  the  Indians; 
the  building  of  the  State  on  a  sure  foundation ;  —  all 
ending  in  peace  and  liberty. 

This  picturesque  but  ponderous  year-book  would 
have  made  Governor  Bradford  a  forerunner  in 
letters,  but  he  can  hardly  be  ranked  as  u  The  Father 
of  American  Literature,"  as  he  has  sometimes  been 
styled.  There  are  fine  passages  but  little  perspective. 
The  following  which  refers  to  leaving  Holland  has 
always  been  accounted  a  gem.  — 

21 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  So  they  lefte  yt  goodly  and  pleasant  citie  which  had 
been  ther  resting-place  near  12  years;  but  they  knew  they 
were  pilgrimes,  and  looked  not  much  on  those  things,  but 
lift  up  their  eyes  to  ye  heavens,  their  dearest  countrie,  and 
quieted  their  spirits." 

The  manuscript  of  this  famous  "  History  of  Ply- 
mouth Plantation,"  consisting  of  two  hundred  and 
seventy  pages,  disappeared  from  Boston  in  colonial 
days,  and  came  into  the  possession  of  the  Lord  Bishop 
of  London.  In  1897,  on  request,  he  generously  re- 
stored it  to  the  Commonwealth  of  Massachusetts. 

On  Plymouth's  hallowed  "  Burial  Hill,"  stands  a 
marble  obelisk,  in  memory  of  Governor  William 
Bradford,  Zealous  Puritan  and  Sincere  Christian, 
Governor  of  Plymouth  Colony,  1621-1657. 

Edward  Winslow  (1595-1655),  was  another  well- 
known  Plymouth  diarist.  His,  however,  was  a  day- 
book, not  a  year-book.  He  was  greatly  interested 
in  the  Indians,  specially  in  the  courteous  Massasoit. 
He  became  governor  and  was  three  times  in  office. 

Governor  John  Winthrop  (1588-1649),  also  re- 
corded doings  colonial.  He  was  an  aristocratic 
Englishman  of  marked  wisdom,  who,  having  been 
elected  in  England  as  Puritan  leader  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Bay  Colony,  set  sail  with  his  charter  and 
about  a  thousand  followers,  in  1630.  They  settled 
on  the  site  of  modern  Boston. 

Governor  Winthrop,  the  leading  spirit,  was  his- 
torian. His  noted  "  Journal,"  called  "  A  History 

22 


PILGRIM,   PURITAN   CHRONICLERS 

of  New  England,"  was  a  faithful  reflection  of  the 
life  of  the  country.  It  is  in  a  smoother,  more 
polished  style,  but  not  so  picturesque  as  that  of  Gov- 
ernor Bradford.  It  began  before  leaving  England 
and  was  continued  forty  years. 

All  these  antiquated  chronicles  —  important  though 
they  be  in  keeping  alive  our  history  —  would  prove 
tedious  reading  now-a-days;  but  Hawthorne,  Long- 
fellow and  Whittier,  by  their  magic  touch,  have 
transformed  some  of  them  into  unforgettable  tales. 

"  A  rock  in  the  wilderness  welcomed  our  sires, 
From  bondage  far  over  the  dark  rolling  sea; 
On  that  holy  altar  they  kindled  the  fires, 
Jehovah,  which  glow  in  our  bosoms  for  Thee," 


VI 

EARLY  THEOLOGIANS 

WE  have  referred  to  Rev.  John  Cotton,  in  connection 
with  the  "  Bay  Psalm  Book."  He  was  a  robust 
preacher,  who,  fleeing  from  Boston,  England,  on  ac- 
count of  Bishop  Laud's  persecution,  came  over  to  the 
village  of  Trimountain,  which  in  his  honour  was 
named  Boston,  and  which  as  has  been  said  was  later 
the  capital  of  Governor  Winthrop's  colony;  and  it 
is  a  curious  fact  that  while  he  fled  to  escape  persecu- 
tion, he  waged  fiercest  war  against  the  Baptist  — 
Roger  Williams. 

He  wrote  perhaps  half  a  hundred  books,  but  the 
only  thing  by  which  we  recall  him  is  his  little  nine- 
paged  "  Catechism,"  entitled  "  Spiritual  Milk  for 
Babes."  This  was  first  published  in  England,  while 
he  was  pastor  there  in  Boston ;  but  it  was  many  times 
re-issued  in  America,  for  it  became  "  the  Catechism  " 
in  an  age  of  catechism-making.  It  was  bound  with 
the  "  Primer  "  so  that  the  youngest  New  Englander 
might  imbibe  "  spiritual  milk  "  while  learning  the 
alphabet;  and  the  Primer,  too,  was  a  sort  of  sacred 
book,  many  Biblical  facts  being  inculcated  in  its 
study. 

24 


EARLY   THEOLOGIANS 

Indeed,  with  the  very  first  letter  "A"  was  the 
gloomy  announcement :  — 

"  A.     In  Adam's  fall, 
We  sinned  all." 

and  the  following  are  some  of  the  other  rhymes :  — 

"  G.     As  runs  the  glass 

Man's  life  doth  pass. 

J.     Job  feels  the  rod 
But  blesses  God. 

N.     Nightingales  sing 
In  time  of  spring. 

S.     Samuel  anoints 

Whom  God  appoints. 

Z.     Zaccheus  he 

Did  climb  a  tree 
Our  Lord  to  see." 

And  so  with  nearly  every  letter  is  impressed  some 
lesson  either  from  the  Bible  or  history  or  Nature; 
and  those  simple,  rhythmic  lines  were  dear  to  those 
who  learned  their  "  New  England  Catechism  "  "  by 
heart."  When  we  realise  what  both  Pilgrims  and 
Puritans  stood  for,  it  was  most  natural  that  even  the 
children  should  be  trained  in  theology! 

Another  of  these  early  divines  was  Thomas 

25 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Hooker  (1586-1649),  the  founder  of  Hartford. 
He  usually  preached  over  two  hours  and  wrote  many 
pamphlets  with  ponderous  titles.  It  seems  sad  that 
so  much  brain-energy  was  expended  in  literature 
scarcely  read  to-day  —  for  there  were  great  theolo- 
gians among  the  makers  of  the  new  nation. 

The  Mather  family  was  far  and  away  the  most 
illustrious  clerical-literary  one,  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries.  Ten  of  its  members  were  min- 
isters —  three  of  them  very  famous.  Sturdy,  indom- 
itable supporters  of  Calvin's  theology,  their  cease- 
less sermons  and  treaties  ended  only  with  their  lives. 

First,  there  was  the  father  Richard,  the  English 
divine,  with  stentorian  voice  and  majestic  manner, 
who  came  to  New  England,  in  1635.  Next  was  his 
son  Increase  (1639-1723),  who,  entering  Harvard 
at  twelve,  was  in  turn  preacher,  diplomat,  and  edu- 
cator. He  later  became  the  sixtn  President  of  Har- 
vard College.  He  was  as  full  of  superstition  as  of 
piety,  and  devils  were  to  him  so  real  that  he  took  a 
most  active  part  in  the  persecution  of  witches. 

Increase  Mather  wrote  nearly  one  hundred  works, 
but  we  name  just  one  —  his  quaint,  weird  "  Essay  for 
Recording  Illustrious  Providences."  It  is  a  curious 
mixture  of  religious  awe  and  sentiment,  full  of 
ghosts  and  demons  and  thunders  and  lightnings  and 
persecution. 

The  last  and  most  renowned  of  the  family  was 
Cotton  Mather  (1663-1728).  He  was  so  pious  that 

26 


EARLY   THEOLOGIANS 

as  a  mere  child  he  composed  forms  of  prayer  for  his 
school-mates  —  and  he  made  them  use  them,  "  though 
they  cuffed  him  "  in  return.  As  a  boy,  too,  he  under- 
took serious  vigils  to  make  himself  holy,  and  always 
led  the  life  of  an  ascetic. 

This  youthful  prodigy  entered  Harvard  at  eleven. 
At  twelve,  he  knew  Hebrew,  and  had  already  mas- 
tered leading  Greek  and  Latin  authors.  He  had  a 
marvellous  memory  and  could  be  theological  in  sev- 
eral languages,  specially  the  dead  ones:  he  quoted 
from  classic  writers  quite  as  readily  as  from  English 
ones. 

His  principle  was  never  to  waste  a  single  minute, 
and  prominently  displayed  in  his  study  to  meet  the 
visitor's  eye,  was  the  phrase  "  Be  Short."  He  began 
to  preach  at  seventeen,  and  later  was  associated  with 
his  father  over  North  Church,  Boston;  and  he  re- 
tained this  pastorate  until  his  death,  in  1728 — and 
during  these  forty-three  years,  he  dominated  over  all 
his  listeners.  His  style  was  like  that  of  Dr.  Johnson. 
While  he  fully  justified  the  persecution  of  the  witches, 
he  was  a  life-long  worker  among  Indians,  prisoners, 
and  sailors. 

He  was  born  and  he  died  in  Boston,  and  was 
never  one  hundred  miles  away  from  this  town,  named 
as  has  been  told  for  his  maternal  grandfather,  Rev. 
John  Cotton.  It  is  said  that  he  possessed  one  of  the 
largest  libraries  in  America.  He  was  such  an  inces- 
sant writer  that  his  own  three  hundred  and  eighty 

27 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

publications  alone  would  have  made  him  a  good-sized 
bookcase  in  those  days;  indeed,  he  was  himself  "  a 
walking  library." 

The  work  that  lives  is  his  "  Magnalia  Christi 
Americana,"  or  "  Ecclesiastical  History  of  New  Eng- 
land." This  is  called  "The  Prize  Epic  of  New 
England  Puritanism."  It  was  published  in  London, 
in  1702,  and  widely  read  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
It  is  a  fantastic  store-house  of  both  useful  and  useless 
knowledge,  relating  to  New  England  life,  and  in  its 
day  it  stood  forth  as  a  remarkable  book.  Dear  old 
credulous  Dr.  Mather !  how  the  surprising  stories  of 
"  Magnalia  "  interested  the  Puritan  households  I 

And  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  has  told  how  as 
a  child  she  ardently  believed  every  one.  She  read, 
and  re-read,  till  she  felt  that  she,  too,  belonged  to  a 
consecrated  race,  and  her  soul  was  filled  with  a  desire 
to  go  forth  and  do  some  valiant  deed. 

If  ever  a  man  was  imbued  with  the  idea  that  he 
had  a  divine  mission  —  that  man  was  Cotton  Mather. 

Next,  in  our  category,-  we  place  John  Eliot  (1604- 
1690),  "The  Apostle  to  the  Indians."  Educated 
at  Cambridge,  England,  he  appeared  in  New  Eng- 
land, in  1631.  This  was  at  a  time  when  the  Puritans 
were  most  incensed  against  the  "  Salvages "  or 
"  Devil- Worshippers  "  as  they  called  the  Indians, 
and  they  were  already  beginning  to  crowd  them  out 
of  the  land.  But  colonial  threats  could  not  prevent 
Eliot  from  an  interest  in  a  race  that  he  thought 

28 


EARLY  THEOLOGIANS 

descendants  of  the  "  Lost  Tribes  of  Israel,"  and  in 
the  spirit  of  an  old  Bible  prophet,  he  determined  to 
devote  his  life  to  their  conversion. 

Among  his  other  writings,  he  assisted  in  the  para- 
phrasing of  the  "  Bay  Psalm  Book  " ;  but  his  won- 
derful literary  monument  is  the  translation  of  the 
Bible  into  Algonquin.  We  remember  that  the 
strange  Indian  language  had  no  written  form  —  so 
Eliot  had  to  create  one.  After  patiently  accom- 
plishing this  most  difficult  task,  he  set  himself  to  the 
still  greater  one  of  translating  the  Bible  into  the  writ- 
ten language  which  he  had  created. 

And  Eliot's  Bible  is  an  inestimable  contribution  to 
philology,  and  ranks  its  maker  among  the  foremost 
literary  men  of  America.  This  —  the  first  Bible 
printed  here  —  appeared  a  little  later  in  the  seven- 
teenth century  than  the  English  translation  so  famil- 
iar to  us.  That  was  issued  by  order  of  King  James 
I,  and  made  by  forty-seven  scholars;  John  Eliot's 
work  was  unaided,  and  his  Bible  is  in  our  day  the 
only  relic  of  a  tribe  and  language  of  the  past.  There 
are  probably  but  four  copies  in  existence. 

Well  did  this  faithful  missionary  deserve  his  title  1 
Twenty-four  of  his  converts  assisted  in  establishing 
small  churches  of  natives  in  both  Plymouth  and 
Massachusetts  Bay  Colonies.  Even  on  the  day  of 
his  death,  he  lay  upon  his  bed,  teaching  a  dusky  lad 
his  letters. 

Hawthorne  gives  Eliot  this  beautiful  tribute:  — 

39 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

"  I  have  sometimes  doubted  whether  there  was  more  than 
a  single  soul  among  our  forefathers  who  realised  that  an 
Indian  possessed  a  mind  and  a  heart  and  an  immortal  soul. 
That  single  man  was  John  Eliot!  " 

We  have  noted  how  the  Puritans  established  — 
but  would  not  grant  —  liberty,  and  the  story  of  Roger 
Williams  (160*6-1683),  forms  an  excellent  illustra- 
tion. He  was  an  impetuous,  warm-hearted  Baptist 
clergyman  of  Salem,  who  dared  assert  that  every 
one  had  a  right  to  worship  God  in  his  own  way. 
Indeed,  Governor  Winthrop  relates  in  his  "  History 
of  New  England  " :  - 

"  Notwithstanding  the  injunction  laid  upon  Roger  Wil- 
liams not  to  go  about  to  draw  others  to  his  opinion  that  he 
did  use  to  entertain  company  in  his  house  and  preach  to 
them." 

And  he  had  to  suffer  for  his  fearless  modern  views. 
Driven  from  Massachusetts,  he  fled  to  the  South,  and 
founded  a  settlement  on  Narragansett  Bay,  which  he 
named  Providence,  in  the  firm  belief  that  God  had 
directed  him  there. 

Roger  Williams's  literary  theme  is  "  Christian 
Liberty,"  in  defence  of  his  constant  controversies 
with  the  Puritans  —  the  most  memorable  being 
the  one  with  Rev.  John  Cotton. 

Side  by  side  with  these  worthies,  but  in  a  later  age, 
appears  that  most  profound  theological  philosopher, 
Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards  (1703-1758). 

30 


EARLY   THEOLOGIANS 

He  was  born  at  East  Windsor,  Connecticut,  and 
at  six  commenced  the  study  of  Latin.  He  was  such 
a  pious  child  that  he  was  allowed  to  join  the  Church 
when  very  young  —  a  thing  unusual  in  those  days. 
As  his  studies  progressed,  he  proved  to  be  such  a 
marvel  of  youthful  brilliancy  that  he  was  entirely  be- 
yond the  comprehension  of  his  teachers.  He  loved 
the  woods  and  stars  —  in  fact  was  interested  in  all 
natural  sciences  —  specially  in  electric  experiments, 
even  prophesying  Franklin's  later  achievements. 

At  fourteen,  he  said  that  he  read  Locke's  u  Essay 
on  the  Human  Understanding  "  "  with  more  pleasure 
than  that  felt  by  the  greedy  miner  when  gathering 
nuggets  of  gold  and  silver."  He  graduated  at  seven- 
teen from  Yale  College,  and  for  a  while  remained 
there  as  tutor.  He  planned  to  spend  thirteen  hours 
daily  in  study,  and  framed  seventy  resolutions  for  his 
conduct  which  he  aimed  to  keep  until  the  end. 
Modest  and  lovable,  enduring  a  life  of  many  priva- 
tions, and  never  in  robust  health,  Jonathan  Edwards 
is  a  rare  type  of  moral  heroism. 

For  twenty-three  years,  he  was  minister  over  the 
Northampton  Church.  Here  his  sympathy  was 
aroused  in  the  work  of  young  David  Brainerd,  the 
consecrated  toiler  among  the  Indians.  Brainerd 
died  at  the  home  of  his  pastor  friend,  and  the  latter 
wrote  his  life. 

The  congregation  at  Northampton  was,  at  first, 
strongly  attracted  to  this  young  preacher;  but  with 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

time  it  grew  weary  of  his  vivid,  harrowing  sermons, 
in  which  he  portrayed  forcibly  the  terrors  of  Calvin- 
ism —  and  more  and  more  the  people  differed  from 
their  pastor  on  these  theological  tenets.  It  is 
strange  that  much  as  he  delighted  in  the  new  era  of 
scientific  theories  and  discoveries,  he  held  so  rigidly 
to  the  orthodox  views  of  his  fathers. 

Finally,  he  was  dismissed  from  Northampton ;  and 
yet  so  far-reaching  was  his  fame  that  one  hundred 
and  fifty  years  later,  a  bronze  tablet  in  his  memory 
was  placed  on  the  wall  of  the  old  church,  and  here 
we  may  see  it  to-day. 

Jonathan  Edwards  left  Northampton  for  Stock- 
bridge,  where  for  eight  years  he  laboured  as  a  mis- 
sionary among  the  Indians.  He  had  a  wife  and  ten 
children  to  care  for  and  he  was  very  poor  —  so  poor 
that  he  wrote  his  books  on  the  backs  of  letters  and 
newspaper  margins;  when  riding  or  walking,  he 
would  pin  bits  of  paper  on  his  coat  —  one  for  every 
thought  that  he  wished  afterwards  to  write  down. 
Sometimes  he  would  be  seen  fluttering  all  over  with 
scraps,  for  he  was  always  either  thinking  or  writing. 

And  it  was  at  Stockbridge  that  he  wrote  "  The 
Freedom  of  the  Will,"  a  work  which  enrols  him1 
among  the  finest  metaphysical  writers  of  the  eight- 
eenth century.  But  though  a  marvel  in  bold  think- 
ing, it  is  scarcely  read  now  —  and  it  has  lost  its  force, 
because  so  few  consider  the  subject  from  his  point  of 
view.  He  wished  in  it  to  show  how  far  God  governs 

32 


EARLY   THEOLOGIANS 

the  will,  and  how  far  people  choose  for  themselves. 
His  theory  is  —  that  the  will  is  not  self-determined, 
for  if  it  were,  God  would  not  rule  over  all. 

In  appreciation  of  Jonathan  Edwards's  literary 
acumen,  he  was  elected,  in  1757,  President  of  Prince- 
ton College;  and  after  holding  office  less  than  three 
months,  he  died  of  small-pox,  and  was  buried  in  the 
graveyard  at  Princeton. 

His  theology  made  a  lasting  impression  on  the 
New  England  thought  of  the  eighteenth  century. 
A  gentleman  of  forceful  spirit,  of  mighty  intellect, 
and  sternest  orthodoxy  —  such  was  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards. 

The  following  are  some  of  his  "  resolutions  " :  — 

"  Resolved,  To  do  whatever  I  think  to  be  my  duty,  and 
most  for  the  good  of  mankind  in  general." 

"  Resolved,  To  live  with  all  my  might  while  I  do  live." 

"  Resolved,  Never  to  lose  one  moment  of  time,  but  to  im- 
prove it  in  the  most  profitable  way  I  can." 

"  Resolved,  Never  to  do  anything  which  I  should  be 
afraid  to  do  if  it  were  the  last  hour  of  my  life." 

"  Resolved,  To  maintain  the  strictest  temperance  in  eat- 
ing and  drinking." 


VII 

DIARISTS  AND  POETS 

SAMUEL  SEWALL  (1662-1730),  the  most  famed 
colonial  diarist,  is  known  as  "  The  Puritan  Pepys." 
A  graduate  of  Harvard,  he  became  in  1671,  Chief- 
Justice  of  Massachusetts,  and  his  colonial  mansion 
pointed  out  with  pride  in  Newburyport  High  Street 
reveals  the  aristocratic  environment  in  which  he  lived. 
As  a  judge,  he  at  one  time  condemned  the  Salem 
witches,  but  later  on,  confessed  to  "  the  blame  and 
shame  of  his  decision." 

He  was  perhaps  the  earliest  pronounced  abolition- 
ist of  Massachusetts;  for  in  his  day  there  were  a  few 
slaves  in  this  Northern  State,  and  in  1700,  published 
a  tract  entitled  "  The  Selling  of  Joseph."  This  was 
the  first  argument  written  in  America  against  the 
slave-trade. 

But  it  is  as  "  The  Puritan  Pepys  "  that  one  may 
claim  more  pleasing  and  intimate  acquaintance  with 
Judge  Sewall  than  with  the  more  religious  colonial 
writers.  Like  the  amusing  English  diarist,  he  walks 
about  his  narrow  world,  noting  its  fashions  and 
follies,  its  petty  humours  and  flirtations  —  photo- 
graphing his  Boston  as  Pepys  did  his  London. 

Though  he  calls  himself  a  Puritan,  we  catch  but 

34 


DIARISTS   AND   POETS 

glimpses  of  his  exceeding  piety.  His  "  Diary,"  with 
some  breaks,  runs  for  fifty-six  years  (1673-1729); 
and  it  furnishes  the  daily  gleanings  of  his  career  from 
the  time  that  he  was  a  young  Harvard  instructor  until 
a  courtly,  dignified  judge.  Matters,  small  and 
great,  are  found  in  picturesque  variety. 

He  chronicles  descriptions  of  his  relatives,  friends 
and  acquaintances,  his  four  courtships,  and  two 
marriages.  We  learn  of  his  horror  of  wigs  and 
fondness  for  funerals.  May-poles  are  set  up;  In- 
dians and  pirates  assert  themselves;  and  we  turn 
eagerly  from  theological  doings  to  scan  a  picture 
of  secular  happenings  in  the  colonies  of  two  hun- 
dred years  ago,  in  Judge  Sewall's  three,  goodly 
volumes. 

What  would  he  have  thought  of  the  comments  of 
the  twentieth  century  reader  upon  what  he  deemed, 
his  private  "  Diary " !  Many,  however,  think  it 
about  the  only  readable  book  of  the  day,  and  withal, 
it  holds  its  own  with  the  great  diaries  of  the  world. 

Time  moves  on  —  and  brings  before  us  another 
journal  of  a  wholly  different  character,  but  of  unique 
interest.  This  is  the  "Journal"  of  John  Wool- 
man  (1720-1722).  Woolman  was  in  turn  clerk, 
school-teacher,  tailor,  preacher,  anti-slavery  agitator, 
and  above  all,  a  sincere  and  lovable  Quaker. 

Let  us  add  to  the  value  of  his  work  the  estimate  of 
others:  Coleridge  was  fascinated  by  it;  Crabbe  calls 
it  "  a  perfect  gem  ";  Charles  Lamb  wrote,  "  Get  the 

35 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

writings  of  Woolman  by  heart " ;  and  Channing 
deems  it  "  the  sweetest  and  purest  autobiography  in 
the  language."  Whittier,  in  editing  the  book,  was 
"  solemnised  by  the  presence  of  a  serene  and  beauti- 
ful spirit." 

At  this  time,  verse-making  was  a  feature  of  colo- 
nial literature.  People  busy  cutting  down  forests  and 
striving  for  material  comforts,  had  no  leisure  to  cul- 
tivate either  fancy  or  imagination,  and  the  solemn 
Puritans  frowned  alike  on  love-song  and  on  jest;  and 
yet  there  were  two  poets  of  whom  they  boasted. 
One  was  Mistress  Anne  Bradstreet  (1612-1672), 
the  first  authoress  and  first  poetess  in  the  New 
World. 

She  was  born  in  England  of  gentle  blood,  care- 
fully educated,  and  married  at  sixteen.  Then  leav- 
ing an  atmosphere  of  wealth  and  refinement  for  a 
home  in  the  Massachusetts  wilderness,  she  and  her 
husband,  who  later  became  Governor  Bradstreet, 
embarked  for  America,  in  1630,  with  John  Win- 
throp's  party. 

It  is  singular  that  in  her  verse  there  is  seldom  a 
reference  to  her  New  England  surroundings.  Often 
real  flowers  bloom  and  real  birds  sing  —  but  we 
catch  the  fragrance  of  English  flowers  and  the  warble 
of  the  lark  and  nightingale.  She  sometimes  makes  a 
good  line  but  it  is  rarely  sustained  —  yet  the  follow- 
ing stanza  is  well  put :  — 

36 


NATIONAL  MONUMENT,  PLYMOUTH,  MASS. 


DIARISTS   AND   POETS 

"  The  fearful  bird  a  little  nest  now  builds, 
In  trees  and  walls,  in  cities  and  in  fields, 
The  outside  strong,  the  inside  warm  and  neat, 
A  natural  artificer  complete." 

Mistress  Bradstreet's  poems  were  published  with- 
out her  knowledge,  in  England,  in  1650,  and  bore 
the  fulsome  title :  "  The  Tenth  Muse  lately  Sprung 
up  in  America.'*  We  wonder  what  London  thought 
of  this  collection  —  for  it  was  the  age  of  Milton! 
When  the  copy  was  shown  Mistress  Bradstreet,  she 
expressed  with  pretty  simplicity  her  feelings  at  seeing 
u  the  ill-formed  offspring  of  her  feeble  brain,"  and 
she  blushed  as  many  a  later  poet  has  done  at  the 
printer's  errors. 

The  Bradstreet  mansion  is  yet  pointed  out  at 
North  Andover,  Massachusetts.  Here  its  honoured 
mistress  brought  up  eight  children,  lightening  the 
burden  of  daily  life  with  the  consolation  of  litera- 
ture. 

In  one  way  or  another,  Richard  Henry  Dana, 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  and  Wendell  Phillips, 
claimed  descent  —  and  perchance  a  touch  of  genius 
—  from  "  The  Tenth  Muse." 

But  the  one  famous  poem  in  New  England,  two 
hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  was  "  The  Day  of 
Doom,"  by  Michael  Wigglesworth  (1631-1715). 
The  author  who  was  a  genial  man  came  as  a  young 
boy  from  England.  He  graduated  at  Harvard  and 
entered  the  ministry;  but  ill-health  interfered  with 

37 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

his  preaching,  as  he  intimately  confides  to  the  reader 
in  this  introduction  to  his  popular  poem :  — 

"  I  find  more  true  delight 
In  serving  of  the  Lord 
Than  all  the  good  things  upon  earth, 
Without  it  can  afford. 
Thou  wonderest  perhaps 
That  I  in  Print  appear, 
Who  to  the  Pulpit  dwell  so  nigh 
Yet  come  so  seldom  there, 
And  could  my  strength  endure, 
That  work  I  count  so  dear, 
Not  all  the  riches  of  Peru 
Should  have  me  to  forbear." 

But  as  his  "  strength  "  did  not  "  endure,"  he  gave 
to  New  England  a  perpetual  poetical  sermon,  the 
text  of  which  was  "  The  Day  of  Doom,"  and  it  is 
conspicuous  as  the  earliest  prolonged  poem. 

This  appealed  tremendously  to  the  zealous  Puri- 
tan because  it  pictured  in  such  terrific  colouring  the 
Calvinistic  doctrine  of  u  the  Elect  "  transported  re- 
joicing to  heaven,  while  the  wicked  were  consigned 
to  the  pit  of  woe.  It  was  like  one  of  those  mediaeval 
representations  of  the  "  Last  Judgment." 

The  first  edition  printed  in  sheets  was  widely  cir- 
culated. Lowell  terms  it  '  The  solace  of  every 
fireside."  The  elders  pondered  it,  while  children 
were  obliged  to  commit  it  to  memory  with  their  cate- 
chism, and  for  a  whole  century  Michael  Wiggles- 
worth's  direct  and  forceful  —  yet  monotonous  verses 

38 


DIARISTS   AND   POETS 

—  in  their  sing-song  metre,  held  extraordinary  sway 
over  the  readers  —  even  causing  many  to  shudder! 

In  citing  a  few  landmarks  of  colonial  literature, 
we  have  done  it  topically  rather  than  historically. 
We  have  discovered  that  in  the  seventeenth  century, 
the  theological  writers  of  New  England  —  who  were 
indebted  for  their  style  to  their  knowledge  of  the 
grandeur  and  poetic  beauty  of  the  Bible  —  seemed 
to  overshadow  all  other  inspirations.  But  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  this  solemn  literature  that  had 
grown  up  about  the  meeting-house  and  the  fireside 
was  getting  away  from  week-day  life. 

A  growing  commercial  prosperity  was  now  giving 
influence  to  social  conditions;  and  the  colonies  strewn 
along  the  Atlantic  coast,  at  first  independent  of  one  an- 
other, were  allied  in  common  themes :  politics  rather 
than  theology  began  to  dominate  statesmanship. 

There  had  been  before  a  fashion  for  writing  mort^ 
uary  verses  and  epigrams;  and  to  these  were  now 
added  essays  and  newspapers  and  other  periodical 
literature.  There  was  increasing  interest  in  alma- 
nac-making. Indeed,  the  almanac  came  to  be  a  per- 
fect encyclopaedia,  full  of  snatches  of  respectable 
literature  which  tempted  one  to  seek  further. 

Books  of  Nature  and  travel,  too,  made  their  ap- 
pearance: as  example  of  the  latter,  in  1704,  Sarah 
Kemble  Knight  gave  to  the  world  her  graphic  de- 
scription of  five  months'  adventures  on  a  horseback 
trip  from  Boston  to  New  York. 

39 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

This  colonial  epoch  as  we  have  said  opened  when 
the  glorious  "  Elizabethan  Era  "  was  at  its  zenith. 
It  closed  at  about  the  time  that  the  "  Wits  "  of  Queen 
Anne's  reign  were  prattling  in  "  Tatler  "  and  "  Spec- 
tator," and  the  trio  of  eighteenth  century  novelists 
were  weaving  their  fictions.  But  while  centuries  of 
scholarly  thought  and  life  had  been  expended  upon 
authorship  in  America,  no  drama  or  novel  or  story 
appeared  in  colonial  literature  —  not  one  such  book 
that  we  would  mark  to-day  as  of  the  highest  literary 
standard. 

Plymouth,  Massachusetts,  which  was  designated 
by  the  Pilgrims  as  "  the  howling  wilderness  "  holds 
to-day  more  definite  landmarks  of  their  arrival  there, 
in  1620,  than  does  Jamestown  of  the  coming  of  the 
Cavaliers,  in  1607.  This  is  a  most  interesting 
region  for  the  student  to  visit.  Not  many  miles  dis- 
tant is  the  imposing  monument  at  Cape  Cod,  recently 
dedicated,  on  the  site  of  the  first  landing-place. 

And  who  can  forget  the  beautiful  panorama  of 
Plymouth  Harbour,  the  world-famed  rock,  Pilgrim 
Hall,  the  colonial  houses,  and  Burial  Hill;  and 
crowning  all,  the  noble  national  monument  to  the 
forefathers,  upon  which  stands  "  Faith."  In  one 
hand,  she  holds  a  Bible  —  with  the  other,  she  points 
heavenward.  This  memorial  was  placed  here  by  a 
grateful  people,  in  appreciation  of  labours,  sacrifices, 
and  sufferings,  in  the  cause  of  religious  liberty ! 

40 


VIII 

BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

LOWELL  calls  Jamestown  and  Plymouth  "  the  two 
great  distributing  centres  of  the  English  race  in  Amer- 
ica." From  each  flowed  a  stream  of  colonial  litera- 
ture which  presently  united  into  a  swift,  deep  current. 
This  current  is  symbolic  of  the  new,  broader 
thought  that  in  the  eighteenth  century  was  at 
work,  developing  our  story  into  its  second  or  Revo- 
lutionary Period. 

The  first  chapter  of  this  era  must  be  granted  to 
Benjamin  Franklin,  because  he  served  his  country  so 
faithfully  in  politics  and  literature ;  and  though  much 
of  his  life  belongs  to  colonial  days,  his  was  alike  a 
formative  and  very  modern  influence. 

The  youngest  son  of  a  tallow-chandler,  he  was 
born  in  Boston,  in  1706,  and  his  childhood  was 
passed  under  Puritan  influences.  He  had  meagre 
book-learning,  for  before  he  was  ten,  his  father  took 
him  from  school  to  assist  him  in  the  shop;  and  as 
Ben  cut  wicks,  filled  dipping-moulds,  and  ran  on 
errands,  he  was  always  either  wishing  that  he  might 
be  a  sailor,  or  wondering  how  he  might  secure  an 
education. 

His  father,  observing  his  bookish  turn  of  mind, 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

apprenticed  him  at  twelve  to  his  brother  James,  and 
he  learned  easily  to  set  types.  He  was  even  then 
an  omnivorous  reader,  and  every  penny  that  he  could 
spare  was  spent  on  literature,  and  there  was  no 
variety  from  which  to  choose.  Of  the  six  hundred 
books  published  during  the  first  twelve  years  of  his 
life,  about  five  hundred  were  on  religious  subjects, 
and  fifty  more  were  almanacs. 

As  far  as  we  know,  not  a  copy  of  Shakespeare  had 
made  its  way  into  Boston  —  but  all  the  same,  Benja- 
min read  everything  that  he  could  lay  his  hands  upon. 
"  Plutarch's  Lives  "  and  "  Pilgrim's  Progress  "  spe- 
cially interested  him;  and  prowling  one  day  among 
such  classical  and  theological  works,  he  came  across 
a  copy  of  "  Spectator,"  really  a  novelty  in  the  town. 

This  was  fortunate,  for  he  was  just  trying  to  form 
his  own  style  by  studying  the  uses  of  common  words 
rightly  placed. 

He  was  delighted  with  the  essays;  read  and  re- 
read them;  made  outlines  from  them;  and  presently 
caught  the  trick  of  composition  and  ventured  to  write 
himself.  His  expression  was  not  so  light  and  grace- 
ful as  that  of  Addison  and  Steele  —  but  full  of  com- 
mon sense  and  blunt  humour. 

In  1721,  the  brother  started  "  The  New  England 
Courant,"  and  Benjamin,  now  fifteen,  determined  to 
become  a  contributor;  so  he  stuck  one  of  his  own 
essays  anonymously  under  the  printing-house  door. 
It  was  accepted,  others  followed,  and  people  liked 

42 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

them.  In  short,  the  writer  proved  "  the  brains  "  of 
the  establishment. 

Perhaps  he  grew  too  wise  for  his  proprietor 
brother  but  for  some  reason  they  quarrelled,  and  "  B. 
Franklin  "  as  he  briefly  subscribed  himself  —  when- 
ever he  did  sign  his  name  —  slipped  away  on  a  sloop 
bound  for  New  York  and  continued  his  journey  to 
Philadelphia.  He  reached  the  latter,  dirty  and  hun- 
gry, his  pockets  stuffed  out  with  shirts  and  stockings 
-  and  he  had  but  just  one  "  Dutch  dollar  "  with 
which  to  begin  business. 

With  a  roll  under  each  arm  and  eating  a  third, 
he  walked  up  Market  Street,  and  a  girl  standing  on 
her  father's  stoop,  laughed  as  she  saw  the  runaway 
pass;  and  this  was  Elizabeth  Read,  his  future  wife. 

Franklin  obtained  work  in  a  printer's  office  where 
he  remained  two  years.  Clever,  industrious  young 
fellow  that  he  was,  he  even  now  attracted  influential 
people.  Sir  William  Keith,  Governor  of  the  Prov- 
ince, persuaded  him  to  go  to  London  in  order  to 
secure  a  good  printing  outfit,  promising  his  patron- 
age ;  it  was  a  fruitless  errand  —  the  promised  letters 
were  not  sent,  and  Franklin  soon  found  himself  three 
thousand  miles  from  home,  without  either  money 
or  friends. 

For  eighteen  months,  he  spent  in  London  a  kind 
of  vagabond  life  as  a  journeyman-printer.  Yet  he 
held  himself  well  and  was  so  temperate  that  his 
companions  nicknamed  him  "  The  Water-Ameri- 

43 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

can  ";  but  this  knocking  about  proved  fit  preparation 
for  a  broad  career.  Wiser  for  his  experience,  he 
returned,  in  1726,  to  Philadelphia  which  ever  after 
was  his  home. 

A  born  printer,  publisher,  and  editor,  he  began 
business  by  shrewdly  advertising  his  proficiency  in 
all  three.  He  also  opened  a  stationer's  shop,  and 
like  the  young  Jonathan  Edwards  in  spiritual  mat- 
ters, he,  too,  drew  some  "  resolutions  "  in  regard  to 
managing  the  temporal  affairs  of  his  life,  some  of 
them  being  on  temperance,  silence,  frugality,  and  in- 
dustry. The  one  on  "resolve  "  is  as  follows:  — 

"  Resolve  to  perform  what  you  ought, 
Perform  without  fail  what  you  resolve." 

Franklin  bought  out  "  The  Pennsylvania  Gazette," 
the  first  American  magazine.  He  was  interested  in 
science  and  began  to  show  himself  a  man  of  affairs. 

In  1730,  he  married  Elizabeth  Read,  and  for 
many  years  she  stood  by  him  in  the  humble  stationer's 
shop,  aiding  him  by  her  frugality;  and  presently 
our  forefather  of  American  editors,  publishers  and 
printers,  drew  about  him  many  prominent  people. 
He  was  already  outgrowing  his  environment,  and 
transferring  the  literary  centre  from  Boston  to  Phila- 
delphia. 

Think  of  some  of  the  things  that  he  did,  that  early 
converted  this  town  into  the  foremost  of  American 
cities.  He  organised  here  the  first  regular  fire  and 

44 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

police  forces  of  which  our  country  could  boast;  in- 
vented the  Franklin  stove  to  give  out  more  heat  with 
less  wood.  He  helped  to  establish  hospitals.  He 
formed  a  debating  club  called  "  The  Junta,"  the 
members  of  which  kept  their  books  at  the  rooms,  and 
so  easily  out  of  it  grew  the  first  circulating  library. 
He  set  on  foot  an  academy,  now  the  University  of 
Pennsylvania ;  and  he  always  worked  by  the  principle 
that  if  he  wished  a  thing  well  done,  he  must  do  it 
himself. 

Then  he  started  his  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac," 
which,  as  we  shall  later  see,  helped  the  Philadel- 
phians  in  forming  regular,  saving,  and  industrious 
habits.  He  became  clerk  of  the  General  Assembly 
and  postmaster  of  Philadelphia. 

Finally,  in  1748,  when  he  was  forty-two  years  old, 
he  retired  from  business;  for  he  had  gained  a  com- 
petence and  desired  more  leisure  —  which  "  leisure  " 
he  defined  as  "  a  time  for  doing  something  useful." 
His  journalism  and  scientific  investigations  were  al- 
ready giving  him  world-wide  fame,  and  he  wished 
to  accomplish  even  greater  results  in  both. 

As  postmaster  of  Philadelphia,  he  had  felt  the 
necessity  of  a  centralised  system  for  all  the  colonies. 
To  further  his  purpose,  he  travelled  in  a  gig  with 
his  daughter  Sallie  throughout  the  "  Thirteen  Colo- 
nies," and  in  1755,  was  appointed  Postmaster- 
General. 

In  order  to  understand  his  later  work  as  statesman 

45 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

and  diplomat,  we  must  briefly  glance  at  the  growing 
unrest  that  confronted  him.  One  result  of  the 
French  and  Indian  War  had  been  to  teach  the  colo- 
nies a  lesson  of  union  against  a  common  foe,  and 
loyalty  to  England  was  at  once  giving  place  to 
patriotism.  King  George  Third  seemed  to  realise 
this  and  with  high-handed  measures  tried  to  quell 
it  —  but  he  little  understood  the  spirit  of  his  sub- 
jects scattered  along  the  shore  beyond  the  wide 
sea. 

Franklin  had  been  twice  to  England  —  first  as  a 
journeyman-printer,  and  in  1757,  as  an  agent  from 
Pennsylvania  to  settle  a  dispute  with  the  heirs  of 
William  Penn;  and  now,  in  1765,  as  foremost  Amer- 
ican diplomat,  he  was  sent  again  —  this  time  to  en- 
lighten the  Mother  Country  about  her  duty  to  the 
rebellious  "  Thirteen  " —  by  protesting  against  the 
Stamp  Act. 

Somewhat  later,  we  find  our  dignified  advocate, 
standing  before  the  court  of  the  mightiest  kingdom 
upon  earth.  What  cared  he  for  its  pomp  and  pag- 
eantry as  with  calm  demeanour  and  forceful  argument 
he  earnestly  pleaded  the  cause  of  the  colonies!  and 
his  address  made  such  an  impression  that  the  obnox- 
ious Stamp  Act  was  repealed. 

Among  other  things  that  Franklin  did  in  London 
was  to  publish  anonymously  a  most  clever  essay: 
"  Rules  for  Reducing  a  Great  Empire  to  a  Small 
One."  This  was  an  imaginary  edict  issued  by  the 

46 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

King  of  Prussia,  in  which  by  right  of  ancestry,  he 
asserts  a  claim  to  tax  England  and  make  her  laws. 
It  was  written  that  England  might  see  herself  from 
the  American  point  of  view. 

An  amusing  incident  occurred  in  connection  with 
this.  Franklin,  a  little  later,  was  visiting  an  Eng- 
lish lord  —  when  the  valet  broke  into  the  room, 
waving  a  newspaper  as  he  excitedly  exclaimed: 
"  Here's  news  for  ye!  Here's  the  King  of  Prussia 
claiming  a  right  to  this  kingdom !  " 

Franklin  endeavoured  by  every  persuasion  to  avert 
war,  but  this  he  could  not  accomplish,  and  naturally 
he  made  enemies  and  lost  power  beyond  the  seas. 
Dr.  Johnson  even  pronounced  him  "  a  master  mis- 
chief-maker." Finally  despairing  of  future  useful- 
ness, he  sailed  for  home,  reaching  there  at  just  about 
the  time  when  the  first  guns  were  fired  at  Lexington 
and  Concord. 

He  was  at  once  elected  to  the  Revolutionary  Con- 
gress, and  on  July  Fourth,  1776,  signed  the  Declara- 
tion of  Independence;  and  when  Harrison  appealed 
for  a  unanimous  vote  in  the  Senate,  it  was  Franklin 
who  exclaimed:  "  We  must  all  hang  together  —  or 
assuredly  we  shall  all  hang  separately!  " 

During  his  ten  years'  absence  abroad,  his  wife  had 
died,  and  his  daughter  Sallie  had  taken  her  place  at 
the  head  of  his  household;  but  quiet  days  were  not 
for  him  —  yet  another  diplomatic  mission  awaited; 
for  though  seventy  years  of  age,  he  was  sent  as  com- 

47 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

missioner  to  the  court  of  France  to  win  sympathy  for 
our  nation  in  her  war  with  England. 

The  French  were  delighted  to  receive  him.  To 
them,  he  was  "  the  personification  of  '  the  rights  of 
man  '  " —  the  very  principles  which  they  were  pre- 
paring to  assert  in  their  own  Revolution.  Franklin's 
demands  were  met  —  France  generously  aiding  the 
colonies  with  both  money  and  ships.  Mirabeau 
styled  Franklin  "  The  Genius  that  freed  America"; 
and  another  called  him  "  a  modern  Solon." 

A  friend  of  King  Louis  XVI.  and  Queen  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  surrounded  by  admiring  courtiers, 
he  —  even  at  Versailles  —  maintained  dignified  sim- 
plicity; but  he  seemed  by  nature  a  patrician  and 
greatly  enjoyed  court  life. 

Popular  enthusiasm  for  Franklin  ran  high! 
Everywhere  he  heard  his  proverbs  repeated  in 
French.  Applauded  in  public,  people  gathered  in 
the  streets  to  see  him  pass;  his  face  appeared  alike  in 
print-shops  and  in  the  boudoirs  of  court  ladies. 
They  wore  bracelets  and  carried  snuff-boxes  adorned 
with  his  head,  and  discussed  his  merits  about  a 
Franklin  stove  in  the  salon.  Poets  rhymed  sonnets 
in  his  praise;  and  when  a  medal  was  struck  in  his 
honour,  the  great  Turgot  wrote  an  inscription  which 
translated  reads:  "  He  has  seized  the  lightning  from 
Heaven  and  the  sceptre  from  tyrants." 

And  then  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War, 
with  his  fellow-commissioners,  Adams  and  Jay,  he 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

cordially  conducted  peace  negotiations  with  England, 
and  in  1783,  signed  the  treaty,  and  when  Thomas 
Jefferson  was  sent  to  France  to  replace  him,  Jefferson 
said:  "  I  may  succeed  but  can  never  replace  him." 

And  the  venerable  diplomat  returned  and  was  wel- 
comed by  triumph  and  celebration  as  "  The  Father 
of  Independence."  He  now  becomes  one  of  the 
framers  and  signers  of  the  new  Constitution.  In- 
deed, his  signature  has  been  affixed  to  more  of  the 
early  State  compacts  than  that  of  any  other  man. 
It  seemed  as  if  no  measure  could  be  accomplished 
without  his  touch ! 

But  with  added  honours,  Franklin  somehow  grew 
more  serious.  He  missed  old  companions  and  now 
at  eighty  years  of  age,  felt  the  pains  incident  to  in- 
firmity and  disease,  and  he  said  one  day:  "I  seem 
to  have  intruded  myself  into  the  company  of  posterity 
when  I  ought  to  have  been  abed  and  asleep." 

And  yet  he  was  cheerful  and  in  the  intervals  of 
suffering,  read  and  wrote  and  told  many  stories.  He 
approached  death  without  fear,  saying  that  as  he 
had  seen  a  good  deal  of  this  world,  he  felt  a  growing 
curiosity  to  be  acquainted  with  some  other  —  but  he 
was  not  a  religious  man. 

He  died  at  Philadelphia  —  the  city  of  his  love  — 
on  April  seventeenth,  1790.  Twenty  thousand  wit- 
nessed his  burial ;  and  from  that  day  to  this,  probably 
millions  more  have  done  him  reverence  as  they  have 
stood  before  the  plain,  unobtrusive  slab  that  marks 

49 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

his  resting-place  in  the  old  burying-ground  in  the 
heart  of  Philadelphia. 

When  his  death  was  announced,  both  the  United 
States  Congress  and  the  French  National  Assembly 
went 'into  mourning.  A  great  man  had  fallen,  and 
he  still  remains  an  electrical  power  in  all  the  world. 

Franklin  had  little  sympathy  with  the  narrow 
creeds  of  the  day,  and  yet  two  things  deeply  in- 
fluenced his  life:  an  "Essay  on  Doing  Good"  by 
Cotton  Mather,  and  Whitfield's  rousing  sermons. 
His  conduct  manifested  the  work  side  of  faith.  We 
might  to-day  call  him  "  an  apostle  of  social  better- 
ment ";  for  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  present  life 
as  the  early  New  Englander  to  the  future.  He  ad- 
vised "  honesty  "  —  not  because  the  Bible  exhorts  it 
—  but  because  it  "  is  the  best  policy." 

His  character  was  many-sided.  He  is  compared 
to  Washington  —  for  he  did  at  the  King's  court  what 
Washington  did  on  the  field.  His  humour  and  prac- 
tical sense  resembled  Lincoln's,  but  he  lacked  Lin- 
coln's spontaneity.  Like  Lincoln,  he  had  no  sys- 
tematic education. 

He  loved  fellowship,  and  his  wit  and  anecdote 
made  him  always  a  welcome  addition  to  any  assem- 
bly. He  had  an  excellent  habit  of  investigating 
everything  that  came  in  his  way,  and  so  he  was  mas- 
ter of  whatever  he  touched  in  science. 

His  experiment  was  most  valuable,  in  proving  the 
identity  of  lightning  and  electricity  —  and  he  in- 

50 


BENJAMIN   FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

vented  the  lightning-rod.  Every  school-boy  knows 
the  story  of  u  the  kite-flying."  Indeed,  his  scientific 
essays  and  discoveries  gave  him  world-wide  fame. 
Both  Harvard  and  Yale  conferred  honours  upon 
him;  England  made  him  a  Fellow  of  the  Royal  So- 
ciety; he  was  called  in  France,  "  the  foremost  scien- 
tist " —  in  Germany,  "  the  modern  Prometheus." 
Dr.  Franklin  was  very  proud  of  his  "  A.M."  and 
"  LL.D." 

He  was  not  an  author  by  profession  and  could  not 
be  noted  as  a  very  literary  man,  for  he  was  entirely 
destitute  of  ideals  and  poetic  genius. 

But  he  had  a  peculiar  gift  of  combining  clear  ex- 
pression with  a  bit  of  wisdom  to  catch  the  reader's 
eye,  and  a  keen  insight  into  human  nature.  One  has 
said  of  him:  "  But  seldom  do  the  good  notions  of  the 
world  get  jogged  along  by  so  sturdy  and  helpful  a 
force  as  Benjamin  Franklin." 

He  was  a  charming  letter-writer,  and  he  early 
marked  the  important  influence  played  by  the  alma- 
nac in  the  colonial  home.  Suspended  by  a  string 
from  the  chimney-side,  it  was  studied  almost  as  much 
as  the  Bible  and  catechism.  He  finally  resolved  to 
write  one;  and  beginning  in  1732,  for  a  quarter  of  a 
century,  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac "  was  printed 
yearly. 

"  Richard  Saunders,  Philomath,"  was  the  nominal 
author;  but  Dr.  Franklin  always  stood  behind  "  Rich- 
ard "  and  preached,  like  the  proverbial  schoolmaster, 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

a  continued  sermon  in  diligence  and  thrift.  He 
thus  ministered  to  the  needs  of  every  day  —  for  he 
told  the  people  what  to  do  and  they  did  it ! 

Dr.  Franklin  in  his  modesty  disclaimed  much 
originality  in  the  selection  of  these  proverbs  —  but 
he  had  most  apt  skill  in  putting  them.  Read  over 
and  over,  committed  to  memory  and  quoted,  these 
maxims  were  heard  —  even  in  the  Sunday's  sermon 
—  indeed,  they  were  the  common  law  of  living.  The 
"  Almanac "  promptly  passed  into  circulation,  and 
every  issue  was  eagerly  awaited  not  only  in  Phila- 
delphia but  up  and  down  the  coast —  as  a  "  general 
intelligencer." 

The  pioneer  claimed  it;  it  sped  across  the  ocean 
to  be  published  in  Europe  in  several  languages;  and 
all  the  twenty-five  years,  its  annual  sale  was  ten  thou- 
sand copies;  for  apart  from  the  calendar  and  absurd 
weather  predictions,  it  was  full  of  wisdom  —  not 
sparkling  and  elegant  —  but  with  whimsical  glean- 
ings of  observation  on  human  nature  by  our  first 
American  humourist. 

As  preface  to  the  final  copy  in  1758,  he  gathered 
into  a  connected  discourse  many  of  the  best  proverbs 
and  named  it:  "  Father  Abraham's  Visit  to  the  Fair," 
or  "  The  Way  to  Wealth."  This  is  perhaps  the 
most  widely  read  of  all,  not  only  in  our  own  land, 
but  in  European  countries. 

And  what  wonder  that  one  who  held  a  brisk  pen, 
and  who  lived  from  the  day  of  the  colonial  diary 

52 


VII  Mon.     September 

hath  xxx  days. 

tfheje  Lines  may  be 

r*rt*/  backward  or  forward. 

Joy,  Mirth,  Triumph,   I  do  d?  fie  ; 
Deftroy  me  Death,  fain  would  I  die  : 

Foilorn  am  I,  Love 

is  e  xi  I'd, 

Scorn  fmiles  thereat  ;  Hope  is  beguil'd  ; 

Men  banifli'd  blifs,  in  Woe  muft  dwell, 

Then  Joy,  Mirth 

,  Triumph  all  farewell. 

j 

6 

5  ^  V  |,rair. 

i 

'K'l 

5  45    7    ^swemuftac- 

2 

7 

London  burnt.      2 

i  - 

5  46  7 

New  >    2  day 

5 

A 

uSund.}.  £nn.  3  — 

5  43   7 

at  7    afr. 

4 

2 

windy, 

4    !4 

5   50  7 

count  j  or  every. 

5 

3 

flying  clouds. 

5 

2b 

5  51   7 

idle  word,  fo  we 

6 

4 

7*  rife  8  23 

5<i  ru 

5   52  7 

/)  fers  8  »4  afr 

1 

5 

Day  fliorter  2  346 

27 

5   54  7 

muft  for  every 

S 

6 

warm,  and 

7 

^ 

5   55   7 

jdlf  flence. 

9 

7 

Vc.Q")/.  pleafant. 

8 

5  56  7 

Krft  Quarter. 

1C 

A 

'  5.€>u"D-  p-<2Tnn. 

9  |V 

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11 

1  &  T?  9  cool 

9n25 

>   5?  7 

Day  12  h.  Jong 

12 

3   Qin  si 

1C  '2Z 

6     o  6 

Eq.Day  &  Ni. 

13 

4 

with  rain. 

Il'25 

6     i   6 

)lers  i  50  mo 

M 

Si 

Dayslhort.  2  46 

1  2-X 

626 

/  bane  nwer 

6 

Twilight  i  24 

i 

3 

^     4  6 

fern  the  Philo- 

16 

7 

clouds. 

2   y!6    5  6 

Fuil®  16  day. 

17 

A 

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2h'i4:6     7  6 

?.t  6  a^rcrn. 

18     2 

pleafant  & 

3 

266     8  6 

fopkfrs  Stone 

19!  3 

7*  fonth  2   58 

4 

b'6  10  6 

that  turns  lead 

20!  4 

warm. 

r 

20,6    1  !    6 

inio  Gold;   but 

21 

5 

St.  JEKtattFjcto- 

6 

n 

6   13  6 

/  lave  known 

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6h 

6  14  6 

)rile  9   ;o  aft 

22     - 
24^ 

changeable  weath  7 

266    15   6-/^«  fttrfuit  cf  it 
^'•6  16  6'Laft  Quarter. 

j                    ^^^ 

25;  2 

wind  with 

9 

206  18  6\t*rfi  a  Al/tns 

i6  3 
27,  4 

A  o*  $    rain, 
then  clear 

jo  £)/6   19  6\  Gold  into  Lettd. 
II  1/6  20  6J>rife  i  30  mo. 

28   5  o"^  $  again: 

Jin? 

6216      NVrer  fntreat 

29  tf  St.  j&icfjaet. 

12136  22  6i   *  fetvant  fo 

50   7-7*  fouth  2  20 

1  <26 

6  23  6  dwell  tilth  tkse. 

1 

i 

\ 

PAGE  FROM  POOR  RICHARD'S  ALMANAC,  SEPTEMBER,  1738 


BENJAMIN    FRANKLIN    (1706-1790) 

through  the  whole  Revolutionary  era,  and  was  able 
to  congratulate  General  George  Washington  as  the 
first  President  of  the  United  States,  should  naturally 
write  a  characteristic  and  captivating  "  Autobi- 
ography " ! 

Read  his  "  Almanac  ";  appropriate  the  proverbs; 
ponder  on  "  The  Whistle  " ;  on  "  Turning  the  Grind- 
stone ";  on  u  Father  Abraham's  Visit  to  the  Fair  "; 
indeed  ponder  his  essays  on  many  subjects;  but  if 
you  would  feel  the  perennial  charm  of  his  personal- 
ity, read  his  "  Autobiography." 

Begun  in  1771,  it  is  left  unfinished  in  1788. 
It  is  as  simple  in  style  as  "  Robinson  Crusoe  "  or 
"  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  and  in  it  Dr.  Franklin  treats 
himself  with  perfect  frankness,  without  a  thought  of 
compliment.  By  his  "  Autobiography  "  he  is  most 
widely  known,  for  it  has  been  translated  into  nearly 
every  civilised  language.  Curious  as  it  seems,  it  was 
first  published  in  French,  and  did  not  reach  a  correct 
English  edition  until  1868,  when  the  Hon.  John 
Bigelow,  another  famous  American  diplomat,  ed- 
ited it  with  his  own  notes. 

Even  if  Dr.  Franklin  was  not  a  literary  ,man  by 
profession,  he  certainly  led  others  to  an  interest  in 
literary  subjects.  We  remember  what  Sidney  Smith, 
the  brilliant  English  wit,  said  one  day  to  his 
daughter:  "  I  will  disinherit  you,  if  you  do  not  ad- 
mire everything  written  by  Dr.  Franklin." 

But  what  he  wrote  was  not  a  fraction  of  what  he 
53 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

did,  and  one  might  write  books  and  books  and  not 
tell  it  all.  And  in  many  cities  over  our  broad  land, 
we  find  memorials  to  Franklin,  side  by  side  with 
those  to  Washington  and  Lincoln.  Specially  in  our 
National  Capital,  he  is  seen  on  the  avenue,  in  the 
Congressional  Library,  in  Statuary  Hall,  and  in  the 
White  House;  and  everywhere  his  old  home  Phila- 
delphia records  the  honour  which  she  pays  to  her 
adopted  son;  in  public  park  and  building,  in  portrait 
and  historic  scene,  in  architecture  and  sculpture  — 
look  where  one  will  —  the  renown  of  Dr.  Franklin 
is  perpetuated. 

SELECTIONS    FROM    "POOR   RICHARD'S 
ALMANAC" 

Many  a  little  makes  a  mickle. 

Little  strokes  fell  large  oaks. 

A  small  leak  will  sink  a  great  ship. 

The  cat  in  gloves  catches  no  mice. 

One  to-day  is  worth  two  to-morrows. 

An  empty  sack  cannot  stand  upright. 

Little  boats  should  keep  near  shore. 

Three  removes  are  as  bad  as  a  fire. 

Never  leave  that  till  to-morrow  which  you  can  do  to-day. 

Experience  keeps  a  dear  school,  but  fools  will  learn  in 
no  other. 

Those  have  a  short  Lent  who  owe  money  to  be  paid  at 
Easter. 

Dost  thou  love  life?     Then  do  not  squander  time,   for 
that's  the  stuff  life  is  made  of. 

God  helps  them  that  help  themselves. 

54 


IX 

REVOLUTIONARY  LEADERS 

So  Franklin  broke  with  old  traditions  and  opened  the 
door  to  a  broader  literature;  and  now  we  ask  what 
was  the  part  played  by  other  more  serious  literary 
nation-builders. 

As  the  feeling  in  the  colonies  grew  more  and  more 
foreign  to  England,  times  called  for  eloquent  men 
—  and  they  were  ready  I  Fiery  orators  harangued, 
and  their  words  fell  upon  eager  minds.  Balladists, 
wits,  and  prose-writers  took  up  the  liberty  pen  — 
not  to  win  fame  but  freedom:  so  sword  and  voice 
and  printed  page  worked  together,  until  American 
independence  and  American  literature  were  achieved ! 

The  Revolutionary  literary  period  preceded,  at- 
tended, and  followed  the  Revolution.  First  there 
were  the  balladists,  who  in  war-time  play  havoc  with 
metre  and  rhyme  and  sing  as  they  march.  Their 
songs  were  of  a  monotonous  type  but  spirited,  too, 
and  set  to  popular  airs.  Among  them  was  Francis 
Hopkinson's  humourous  "  Battle  of  the  Kegs,"  which 
put  the  British  in  a  ridiculous  light,  and  the  "  Return 
to  Camp,"  sung  to  "  Yankee  Doodle." 

And  the  "  Sons  of  Liberty "  organised  in  New 
York,  and  planted  and  re-planted  their  liberty-poles, 

55 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

which  were  again  and  again  cut  down  by  the  British; 
and  the  "  Daughters  of  Liberty  "  served  the  "  Sons  " 
with  inspiring  cups  of  tea. 

The  following  is  one  of  thirteen  stanzas  of  a  ditty 
created  by  the  Stamp  Act:  — 

"  With  the  beasts  of  the  wood  we  will  ramble  for  food, 
And  lodge  in  wild  deserts  and  caves, 
And  live  poor  as  Job,  on  the  skirts  of  the  globe, 
Before  we'll  submit  to  be  slaves!" 

Philip  Freneau  (1752-1832),  was  called  "The 
Poet  of  the  Revolution,"  because  in  either  satiric  or 
graceful  stanza,  he  recklessly  recorded  nearly  every 
great  event,  and  his  four  volumes  of  political  bur- 
lesque were  most  popular.  Sometimes,  too,  he  struck 
a  gentler  note,  and  several  of  his  lyrics  contain  lines 
of  beauty  and  delicacy  as  in  the  last  stanza  of  his 
44  Wild  Honeysuckle  "  :  — 

"From  morning  suns  and  evening  dews, 

At  first  thy  little  being  came; 
If  nothing  once,  you  nothing  lose, 

For  when  you  die  you  are  the  same; 
The  space  between  is  but  an  hour, 

The  frail  duration  of  a  flower." 

Freneau's  44  House  of  Night "  and  44  Indian  Bury- 
ing-Ground  "  are  always  remembered. 

There  was,  also,  a  group  of  Yale  graduates  of  rare 
and  varied  gifts,  who,  at  this  time,  would  seek  im- 

56 


REVOLUTIONARY   LEADERS 

mortality  by  founding  an  expressive  national  litera- 
ture. Calling  themselves  "  The  Hartford  Wits," 
they  made  this  city  their  literary  centre  and  indulged 
in  extraordinary  rhyme  —  both  satiric  and  patriotic. 
The  most  famous  of  these  "  Wits  "  were  John  Trum- 
bull,  Timothy  Dwight,  and  Joel  Barlow. 

John  Trumbull  (1750-1821),  wrote  "  McFin- 
gal,"  a  mock-heroic  poem  modelled  after  Butler's 
"  Hudibras."  It  was  published  in  detached  parts 
during  the  war,  or  from  1775  to  1782.  It  is  a  strik- 
ing parody  on  the  Tory,  or  peace  party. 

In  this,  the  great  squire  "  McFingal,"  the  Tory 
magistrate,  whose 

"  High  descent  our  heralds  trace 
In  Ossian's  famed  Fingalian  Race,'* 

and  who  can  storm 

"  In  true  sublime  of  scarecrow  style  " — 

makes  an  absurd  harangue  in  favour  of  peace  — 
whereupon  a  fight  ensues.  He  is  tarred  and 
feathered,  and  finally  tied  to  a  liberty-pole. 

"McFingal"  appeared  at  a  propitious  moment; 
even  the  rustic  understood  its  import,  and  was  im- 
pelled to  rush  into  the  ranks.  Thirty  editions  fol- 
lowed one  another,  and. Trumbull  sprang  into  fame 
as  "  The  Father  of  American  Burlesque." 

Timothy  Dwight  (1752-1817),  while  chaplain  in 

57 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

the  army,  composed  his  popular  song  "  Columbia," 
beginning:  — 

"  Columbia,  Columbia,  to  glory  arise, 
The  queen  of  the  world,  and  the  child  of  the  skies." 

i 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  Dwight's  ambition,  for  he 
believed  that  a  true  epic  should  mark  the  foundation 
of  a  literature.  So  seizing  Pope's  motto :  — 

"  Fired  at  first  sight  with  what  the  muse  imparts 
In  fearless  youth  we  tempt  the  heights  of  art," 

he  struggled  with  holy  themes  until  in  1785,  he  pro- 
duced "  The  Conquest  of  Canaan,"  in  eleven  vol- 
umes. Cotton  Mather,  with  his  text  "  Be  Short," 
could  hardly  approve  its  nine  thousand  six  hundred 
and  seventy-one  lines !  However,  this  ambitious  epic 
was  dedicated  to  "  His  Excellency,  George  Washing- 
ton, Esq.,  Commander,  Saviour,  and  Benefactor  of 
Mankind."  How  Dwight's  grandfather,  Dr.  Jona- 
than Edwards,  would  have  appreciated  it !  the  Puri- 
tans revelled  in  it,  comparing  the  writer  to  both 
Homer  and  Milton! 

Though  this  stately  epic  is  almost  unreadable  now 
—  there  are  some  passages  worthy  of  interest  as  sug- 
gestive of  both  Canaan  and  Connecticut. 

Patriot,  classical  scholar,  theologian,  celebrated 
President  of  Yale  '  College  —  Dr.  Timothy  Dwight 
was  a  famous  man  —  but  not  an  epic  poet. 

58 


REVOLUTIONARY   LEADERS 

The  third  of  the  trio  was  Joel  Barlow  (1753- 
1812).  After  serving  as  chaplain  in  the  war,  he 
became  a  financier  and  diplomat.  He,  too,  wrote 
patriotic  songs,  and  also  attempted  a  national  epic 
that  was  to  rival  "  The  Iliad."  This  was  "  The 
Vision  of  Columbus"  (1787),  later  "  The  Colum- 
biad." 

In  this,  Columbus,  taken  from  prison,  is  led  up  to 
a  "  Hill  of  Vision,"  where  Hesper  unfolds  before 
him  the  history  and  future  greatness  of  America. 
Stately  and  prodigious  poem,  it  for  a  little  electrified 
the  people.  They  even  named  the  guns  for  coast 
defence,  "  Columbiad." 

Hawthorne  later  playfully  suggested  that  "  '  The 
Columbiad '  be  set  to  music  of  artillery  and 
thunder  and  lightning  and  become  our  national 
oratorio";  and  in  the  new  musical  impulse  that  in- 
spires our  land,  in  the  twentieth  century,  possibly 
this  may  yet  be  accomplished.  But  our  epic  is  not 
yet  written! 

Still  later,  in  far-off  Switzerland,  Barlow  wrote  and 
dedicated  to  Lady  Washington  a  less  pretentious 
poem,  "  Hasty  Pudding."  This  is  a  lament  that 
foreigners  may  not  enjoy 

"  The  sweets  of  hasty  pudding, 
My  morning  incense  and  my  evening  meal  "; 

and  its  setting  is  a  realistic  picture  of  New  England 

59 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

home  life.  *  The  Columbiad "  is  forgotten  but 
"  Hasty  Pudding  "  is  read  to-day. 

These  "  Hartford  Wits  "  were  artificial  and  imita- 
tive; but  they  were  an  impulse  towards  —  even  if 
they  were  not  the  founders  of  —  a  national  litera- 
ture. 

And  just  now  the  English  Tom  Paine  (1737- 
1809),  plunged  heart  and  soul  into  the  cause.  He 
was  a  successful  pamphleteer,  and  pamphleteers  did 
brave  duty  in  these  "  times  that  try  men's  souls,"  as 
he  wrote  in  his  "  Crisis."  And  this  pamphlet  liter- 
ally was  brought  forward  at  every  crisis.  Read  at 
the  head  of  the  troops,  it  quickened  the  marches ! 

No  single  effort  was  more  powerful  than  "  Com- 
mon Sense,"  published  in  1776,  and  undoubtedly  it 
hastened  the  "  Declaration  of  Independence."  In 
this  are  the  words:  "  The  same  tyranny  which  drove 
the  first  emigrants  from  home  pursues  their  descend- 
ants still."  But  Thomas  Paine's  splendid  work  for 
liberty  was  marred  by  his  "  Age  of  Reason,"  which 
embodied  an  infidel  belief. 

We  next  glance  at  the  orators  whose  fearless, 
passionate  eloquence  made  war  literature;  and  among 
the  most  inspired  of  these  remonstrants  were  Samuel 
Adams,  James  Otis,  Josiah  Quincy,  and  Patrick 
Henry. 

As  there  was  no  short-hand  reporting  in  those  days 
much  that  they  said  has  come  to  us  only  in  fragment- 

60 


REVOLUTIONARY  LEADERS 

ary  passages;  yet  they  are  familiar  to  every  school- 
boy and  have  won  world-wide  respect. 

Samuel  Adams  (1772-1803),  aimed  to  keep  the 
public  aroused  as  "  Father  of  the  Town-Meeting." 
He  was  always  talking  politics,  and  as  a  contributor 
to  several  papers  his  one  topic  was  "  Freedom  " ; 
and  this  "  Great  New  England  Incendiary  "  did  make 
George  III.  tremble  upon  his  throne! 

James  Otis  (1725-1783),  was  "The  Silver- 
Tongued  Orator,"  who,  with  well-modulated  voice, 
piercing  eye,  and  forceful  manner,  commanded  wild 
applause.  He  wrote  pamphlets  on  colonial  rights; 
and  it  was  after  a  five  hours'  address,  that  John 
Adams,  the  later  President,  called  him  "  a  flame  of 
fire,"  and  added  that  "  then  and  there  the  child  In- 
dependence was  born."  It  seems  strange  but  this 
"  Flame  of  Fire  "  met  instantaneous  death  by  a  flash 
of  lightning. 

And  Josiah  Quincy  (1744-1775),  leaped  into  the 
arena  exclaiming :  — 

"  With  the  God  of  armies  on  our  side,  even  the  God  who 
fought  our  fathers'  battles,  we  fear  not  the  hour  of  trial, 
though  the  hosts  of  our  enemies  should  cover  the  field  like 
locusts!  if  this  be  enthusiasm,  we  will  live  and  die  enthusi- 
asts!" 

And  there  was  Patrick  Henry  (1736-1799),  "The 
Firebrand  of  Virginia."  It  is  claimed  that  his  artis- 
tic and  fervid  eloquence  alone  would  have  bound  the 

61 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

colonies.  In  proof  of  this,  we  might  quote  from 
many  addresses.  But  his  resonant  words,  in  1775, 
before  the  Virginia  Convention,  can  never  be  lost 
from  history :  — 

"Why  stand  we  here  idle?  what  is  it  that  gentlemen 
wish?  what  would  they  have?  is  life  so  dear,  or  peace  so 
sweet,  as  to  be  purchased  at  the  price  of  chains  and  slavery? 
Forbid  it,  Almighty  God.  I  know  not  what  course  others 
may  take,  but  as  for  me,  give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death !  " 

And  many  other  pre-Revolutionary  utterances 
roused  the  patriots,  not  only  in  this  crisis  but  in  later 
ones  —  yet  for  want  of  space  we  may  not  quote  them. 

But  as  we  pause  before  the  monument  at  North 
Bridge,  Concord,  where 

"  The  embattled  farmers  stood, 
And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world," 

we  must  gratefully  recall  the  balladists  and  "  Liberty 
Boys"  and  "Hartford  Wits";  and  also  give  due 
honour  to  the  orators,  who  heroically  stood  behind 
these  "  embattled  farmers  "! 


62 


X 

THE    NATION-BUILDERS 

So  poets  sang  their  songs  and  orators  fulminated  with 
passionate  speech,  and  as  a  result  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  was  signed,  the  war  was  fought,  the 
victory  won. 

But  Revolutionary  singers  and  orators  while  they 
could  inspire,  could  not  organise  liberty;  and  in  1783, 
thirteen  obstinate  independent  little  colonies  waited 
to  be  welded  into  union.  It  was  a  critical  period; 
and  many  prophesied  that  all  would  end  in  strife  and 
anarchy,  such  as  in  an  earlier  age  arose  in  Greece  and 
Italy. 

But  there  came  at  once  to  the  front  real  makers 
of  a  nation,  splendidly  endowed  men  of  noble  senti- 
ment, ready  to  do  their  part!  Never  since  in  the 
history  of  our  country  has  such  a  group  appeared. 
Among  them  were  Jefferson,  Hamilton,  Adams, 
Madison,  Jay,  and  Washington.  They  did  not 
write  to  gain  renown  —  but  to  establish  a  strong, 
flexible  government  —  and  their  splendid  service  is 
counted  literature. 

Of  these  men,  Thomas  Jefferson  (1743-1826), 
the  great  Virginian,  was  a  most  cultivated  scholar 
and  advanced  political  thinker.  Educated  at  Wil- 

63 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

iiam  and  Mary  College,  he  became  a  scientist,  lin- 
guist, educator,  and  reformer.  Verily  he  did  so 
many  things  well  that  he  has  sometimes  been  com- 
pared to  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  He  was,  however,  not 
an  orator  but  he  held  a  reforming  pen. 

He  has  left  his  "  Notes  on  Virginia  "  and  a  philo- 
sophical "Autobiography";  but  his  most  graceful 
literary  monument  is  his  correspondence,  for  he  was 
a  voluminous  letter-writer.  And  this  was  the 
"  Golden  Age  "  of  letters  when  they  were  written  as 
carefully  as  if  they  were  to  be  published;  and  the 
epistolary  labours  of  Thomas  Jefferson  and  other 
statesmen  are  very  valuable  as  historic  and  literary 
records.  Alas !  that  in  this  day  of  cheap  postage  and 
rapid  mails,  this  beautiful  art  of  letter-writing  is 
lost! 

Thomas  Jefferson  bequeathed  volumes  and  vol- 
umes to  posterity  but  his  masterpiece  is  the  "  Declara- 
tion of  Independence,"  which  Americans  call  "  the 
most  concise,  logical,  political  document  in  the  world." 
It  is  traced  in  brilliant  rhetoric  and  proclaims  splen- 
did faith  in  the  people.  Just  the  first  sentence  re- 
veals its  character :  — 

"We  hold  these  truths  to  be  self-evident:  that  all  men 
are  created  equal;  that  they  are  endowed  by  their  Creator 
with  certain  inalienable  rights;  that  among  these  are  life, 
liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  happiness." 

And  John  Hancock  expressed  the  spirit  of  the 
64 


THE    NATION-BUILDERS 

signers    when     appending     his     signature,     he     ex- 
claimed :  — 

"  I  will  write  it  large  enough  for  George  Third  to 
read  without  spectacles !  " 

And  Jefferson  was  the  first  clear  exponent  of 
democracy.  He  was  always  fearful  that  a  central 
government  would  overthrow  individual  rights. 
State  —  rather  than  United  States  —  rights  he  vindi- 
cated —  democracy  rather  than  aristocracy.  His 
Anti-Federalist  Party  bitterly  opposed  the  Federal- 
ists led  by  Alexander  Hamilton;  and  even  now, 
Thomas  Jefferson's  belief  in  the  capacity  of  the  peo- 
ple for  government,  helps  to  mould  public  opinion. 

Jefferson  was,  in  every  sense,  a  leader.  He  or- 
ganised a  movement  in  favour  of  religious  freedom, 
and  founded  the  University  of  Virginia.  He  was 
the  diplomatic  successor  of  Franklin  in  France,  and 
the  third  President  of  the  United  States.  He  was  a 
delightful  personality.  His  home  at  Monticello  was 
perhaps  second  only  in  interest  to  that  of  Mt.  Vernon, 
and  its  charming  hospitality  was  felt  all  over  the  land. 

Writer,  educator,  foreign  minister,  Anti-Federal- 
ist, Cabinet  officer,  and  President  —  he  ignored  all 
when  he  wrote  the  inscription  for  his  tombstone  — 
the  silent  witness  of  his  desire  to  be  remembered  as 
the  author  of  the  "  Declaration." 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  1826  — just  fifty  years  to 
a  day  from  the  adoption  of  the  Declaration  —  Jef- 
ferson died.  And  this  was  a  fated  day  for  Presi- 

65 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

dents;  for  John  Adams,  "  the  great  pillar  which  sup- 
ported it,"  also  passed  away,  exclaiming  just  before 
the  end:  "This  is  the  glorious  Fourth  —  God  bless 
it!" 

On  the  slope  of  the  Virginia  mountains^  at  Monti- 
cello,  there  stands  a  monument  upon  which  is  in- 
scribed :  — 

Here  was  buried 

Thomas  Jefferson 

Author  of  the 

Declaration 

of 
American  Independence 

of  the 
Statute  of  Virginia 

for 

Religious  Freedom 

and  Father  of  the 

University  of  Virginia. 

Alexander  Hamilton  (1757-1814),  was  an  ardent 
Federalist,  believing  in  a  strong  central  government, 
and  so  as  has  been  said  the  political  opponent  of 
Thomas  Jefferson,  the  Anti-Federalist.  Born  in  the 
West  Indies,  he  was  a  precocious  lad,  who,  at  the 
age  of  seventeen,  while  a  student  at  King's  College 
(now  Columbia),  delivered  in  New  York  a  Revolu- 
tionary address  which  stamped  him  as  a  remarkable 
youth,  and  his  anonymous  pamphlets  also  attracted 
much  notice. 

66 


THE   NATION-BUILDERS 

'  The  little  lion  "  he  was  called.  Small  and  dark 
with  fine  figure,  a  dignified  carriage,  an  eye  that 
flashed  fire,  and  a  winning  personality  —  it  was  not 
many  years  before  he  became  the  foremost  statesman 
of  the  day.  He  distinguished  himself  in  battle,  and 
was  long  enough  on  Washington's  staff  to  prove  his 
patriotism.  He  was  also  employed  on  secret,  deli- 
cate missions.  Owing  to  a  creative  genius  for 
finance,  he  established  a  protective  tariff  and  a  bank- 
ing system,  and  in  time  was  the  first  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury. 

In  the  chaos  succeeding  the  Revolution,  a  Consti- 
tution had  been  moulded  for  the  United  States  by  the 
wisdom  of  the  nation-builders  —  in  which  the  clever- 
ness and  force  of  Gouverneur  Morris  was  very  evi- 
dent: but  every  point  in  it  was  instinct  with  Hamil- 
ton's suggestion. 

And  then  the  question  arose  —  "  Should  this  Con- 
stitution be  adopted?  "  and  as  in  our  own  day,  the 
country  was  split  by  political  parties,  and  the  Consti- 
tution was  sharply  attacked  by  Jefferson  and  his  fol- 
lowers. 

Just  at  this  juncture  (1787-1788),  there  appeared 
in  "  The  New  York  Independent  Journal  "  a  series 
of  eighty-five  essays  entitled  "  The  Federalist." 
They  were  written  by  Jay,  Madison,  and  Hamilton 
—  and  all  over  the  one  signature  "  Publius."  They 
were  addressed  to  the  people  of  the  State  of  New 


67 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

York,  urging  them  to  adopt  the  Constitution  that 
upheld 

"  The  Fed'ral  system  which  at  once  unites 
The  13  States  and  all  the  people's  rights." 

John  Jay  (1745-1829),  the  honoured  Chief- Jus- 
tice of  the  United  States,  contributed  five  of  these; 
James  Madison,  "  The  Father  of  the  Constitution," 
wrote  twenty-nine,  and  on  these  is  based  his  literary 
reputation ;  and  Hamilton,  the  third  of  the  great  trio, 
wrote  fifty-one. 

All  these  essays  were  on  profound  themes  and  each 
is  marked  with  sincerity  and  dignity.  Guizot  says 
of  those  contributed  by  Madison :  — 

"  There  is  not  one  element  of  order,  strength,  or  dura- 
bility in  the  Constitution  which  he  did  not  powerfully  con- 
tribute to  introduce,  and  cause  to  be  adopted." 

The  result  was  achieved;  for  in  1790,  the  Consti- 
tution was  accepted  by  the  "  Thirteen  States,"  and 
thus  national  existence  was  firmly  established. 

And  "  The  Federalist "  still  remains  an  authority 
on  the  principles  of  government;  and  for  it  we  are 
indebted  to  Hamilton  more  than  to  any  other  man. 
Even  his  unswerving  opposer,  Jefferson,  declared  him 
*  The  Colossus  of  the  Federalists."  And  this  chal- 
lenged Constitution  has  adapted  itself  to  the  growing 
conditions  of  our  phenomenal  government,  and  with 

68 


THE   NATION-BUILDERS 

but  few  amendments  still  remains  a  monument  to  our 
"  Master  Nation-Builder." 

Hamilton  built  his  country  home,  "  The  Grange," 
on  Harlem  Heights,  nine  miles  from  the  city.  It 
was  in  the  centre  of  a  rolling  region  of  field  and 
forest  and  winding  roads,  with  a  glimpse  beyond  of 
silvery  river  and  bay.  Here,  also,  he  planted  thir- 
teen gum  trees  as  symbolic  of  the  thirteen  original 
States. 

And  it  was  on  a  fateful  July  morning,  in  1804, 
that  Hamilton  left  "  The  Grange  "  and  crossed  the 
Hudson  to  meet  his  death  at  the  hands  of  Vice-Presi- 
dent  Aaron  Burr;  and  he  was  borne  to  his  grave  in 
Trinity  churchyard,  amid  the  splendour  of  a  great 
pageant.  "  The  Order  of  Tammany,"  the  most 
famous  "  Order  of  the  Cincinnati,"  Federalist  and 
Anti-Federalist,  were  all  in  line,  and  behind  the  bier 
two  black  men  robed  in  white  led  Hamilton's  charger; 
and  Gouverneur  Morris  gave  the  impassioned 
funeral  oration  in  which  he  said:  "  His  sole  subject 
of  discussion  was  your  freedom  and  your  happi- 
ness. 

To-day,  at  Convent  Avenue  and  One-Hundred  and 
Forty-first  Street,  in  the  great  city,  we  find  "  The 
Grange  "  in  good  preservation,  used  as  the  rectory  of 
St.  Luke's  Church;  and  an  apartment  house  covers 
the  site  of  the  thirteen  colonial  trees.  They  had  lived 
for  many  years,  an  object  of  interest  to  sightseers. 

Downtown   in  Trinity  churchyard,   not   far   from 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Hamilton's  old  city  home,  we  read  on  his  tombstone 
the  following  inscription :  — 

"  Erected  by  the  Corporation  of  Trinity  Church,  in  tes- 
timony of  their  respect  for 

The  patriot  of  incorruptible  integrity, 

The  soldier  of  approved  valor, 

The  statesman  of  consummate  wisdom,  whose  talents  and 
virtues  will  be  admired  by  a  grateful  posterity  long  after 
this  marble  shall  have  mouldered  into  dust." 

And  other  nation-builders  there  were,  but  only  one 
more  to  whom  we  shall  allude,  and  this  is  George 
Washington,  "  The  Father  of  his  Country."  He 
left,  it  is  true,  but  small  mark  upon  the  writings  of 
his  day,  but  his  letters  and  documents  manifest  a 
pious  and  patriotic  spirit.  His  public  utterances 
were  always  dignified. 

In  old  "  Fraunce's  Tavern,"  corner  of  Broad  and 
Pearl  Streets,  New  York,  we  visit  the  room  where, 
in  1783,  he  bade  farewell  to  his  officers,  saying  in 
parting :  — 

"  With  a  heart  full  of  love  and  gratitude,  I  most  de- 
voutly wish  that  your  latter  days  may  be  as  prosperous  and 
happy  as  your  former  ones  have  been  glorious  and  honour- 
able." 

His  noblest  literary  production,  however,  is  his 
'more  famous  "  Farewell  Address,"  issued  in  Septem- 
ber, 1796,  on  his  retirement  from  the  Presidency. 

70 


THE   NATION-BUILDERS 

It  is  full  of  good  advice  and  produced  a  profound 
sensation;  and  we  close  this  period  of  Revolutionary 
strife  with  its  tranquil  note:  — 

"  I  have  not  only  retired  from  all  public  employments, 
but  I  am  retiring  within  myself,  and  shall  be  able  to  view 
the  solitary  walk,  and  tread  the  paths  of  private  life,  with  a 
heartfelt  satisfaction.  Envious  of  none,  I  am  determined  to 
be  pleased  with  all;  and  this  being  the  order  of  my  march, 
I  will  move  gently  down  the  stream  of  life  until  I  sleep 
with  my  Fathers." 


"WHAT  CONSTITUTES  A  STATE? 

Not  high-raised  battlement  or  laboured  mound, 

Thick  wall  or  moated  gate; 
Not  cities  fair,  with  spires  and  turrets  crowned: 

No:  —  Men,  high-minded  men, 
With  powers  as  far  above  dull  brutes  endued, 

In  forest,  brake,  or  den, 
As  beasts  excel  cold  rocks  and  brambles  rude  — 

Men  who  their  duties  know, 
Know  too  their  rights,  and  knowing,  dare  maintain; 

Prevent  the  long-aimed  blow, 
And  crush  the  tyrant,  while  they  rend  the  chain." 

—  Alcaeus  (tr.  Sir  William  Jones). 


XI 

GLANCES  BACKWARD  AND  FORWARD 

WE  have  considered  the  strivings  of  our  colonial  for- 
bears and  our  heroic  nation-builders,  and  there  are 
yet  other  forces  which  combined  to  hasten  the  Na- 
tional era  that  is  just  before  us. 

For  example,  no  sooner  was  the  Revolutionary 
War  over  than  patriotic  Noah  Webster  exclaimed: 
"  Let  us  seize  the  present  moment  and  establish  a 
national  language";  and  now,  in  1783,  he  offered 
new  literary  implements  in  the  form  of  a  speller, 
grammar,  and  reader,  which  he  called  his  "  Gram- 
matical Institute  " —  and  the  trio  accomplished  most 
successful  educational  results  all  over  the  United 
States.  The  speller  alone,  with  its  tempting  fables, 
succeeding  "  The  New  England  Primer,"  has  ap- 
pealed to  more  than  sixty  million  young  Americans. 

And  this  professor,  lexicographer,  lawyer,  and 
writer,  had  the  excellent  habit  of  jotting  down  every 
word  whose  meaning  was  not  clear,  and  he  was  so 
often  unable  to  find  a  definition,  that  he  determined 
to  prepare  a  compendium  of  the  whole  Enblish  lan- 
guage; and  with  careful  labour  he  commenced  a 
Herculean  task,  and  in  1828,  "Webster's  Diction- 
ary "  was  published. 

72 


GLANCES    BACKWARD   AND   FORWARD 

Just  about  this  time,  too,  the  novel  that  had  been 
in  a  formative  state  began  to  materialise  —  the  novel 
that  in  early  New  England  was  such  a  forbidden 
pleasure  that  anybody  guilty  of  enjoying  one,  might 
be  read  from  the  pulpit;  and  pious  old  President 
Dwight  moralised  on  the  great  gulf  fixed  between  the 
novel  and  the  Bible,  explaining  how  contact  with  the 
former  must  needs  imperil  the  soul. 

For  another  reason,  also,  the  American  novel  was 
belated,  for  before  creative  genius  was  born,  England 
had  been  a  perfect  treasure-house  of  literary  models 
suggestive  for  Americans ;  and  except  De  Foe,  hardly 
an  English  novelist  had  appeared  before  the  eight- 
eenth century  trio  —  Richardson,  Fielding  and 
Smollett.  There  had  been  published  in  America  a 
few  silly,  sentimental  novels,  written  usually  by 
women. 

But  the  first  significant  novels  were  those  of 
Charles  Brockden  Brown  (1771-1810).  A  Phila- 
delphian,  he  attempted  to  study  law,  but  he  was  so 
fascinated  with  literature  that  he  made  it  a  profes- 
sion. He  tried  both  in  Philadelphia  and  New  York 
to  establish  two  or  three  magazines.  A  mysterious, 
picturesque  romancer,  he  loved  complicated  plots, 
filled  with  horror  and  mystery.  Indeed,  he  much 
more  enjoyed  creating  these  in  the  novels  that  he 
wrote  than  they  foolish,  statuesque  actors  moving  in 
them. 

The  first  one,  "  Wieland,"  came  out  in  1798.  To 

73 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

make  his  novels  interesting,  he  realised  the  necessity 
of  giving  them  local  colouring.  He  took  his  reader 
into  the  out-door  country,  and  the  Indian  is  seen 
in  the  wilderness.  He  was  a  careful  observer  of 
Philadelphia  life,  one  hundred  years  ago,  and 
his  "  Arthur  Mervyn "  gives  a  graphic  descrip- 
tion of  the  ravages  of  the  plague  there;  and  thus 
Brown  becomes  our  earliest  preacher  of  sanitary 
reform. 

It  seems  strange  that  he  accomplished  so  much 
with  a  dearth  of  literary  companionship,  and  always 
hampered  by  ill  health  —  his  short  consumptive 
career  closing  with  thirty-seven  years  —  but  none 
may  dispute  his  title,  "  Father  of  the  American 
Novel." 

Yet  another  influence  to  better  literary  work  is 
found  in  the  fact  that  strife  is  relaxed,  and  there 
is  leisure  to  think  and  write  on  other  subjects  than 
politics.  "  The  Americans  as  a  people  are  to  take 
pride  in  a  literature  of  their  own,  and  to  realise  that 
a  National  literature  is  a  National  force." 

And  our  literary  roll-call  is  hardly  a  hundred  years 
old,  so  it  seems  as  if  it  could  not  yet  hold  many  mas- 
terpieces; but  like  everything  else  in  our  land,  litera- 
ture has  made  marvellous  growth,  and  authors  have 
grouped  themselves  according  to  congenial  topics. 
Great  cities  have  always  proved  literary  centres;  and 
in  time  Plymouth  and  Boston  and  Philadelphia  gave 
place  to  commercial  New  York.  Here  originated 

74 


GLANCES    BACKWARD   AND    FORWARD 

much  of  that  charming  literature  which  graces  the 
very  commencement  of  the  new  era. 

The  slender  little  bookcase  begins  to  lengthen  as 
the  works  of  the  Knickerbocker  writers  appear,  and 
from  New  York  are  sent  the  first  volumes  that  give 
American  literature  a  home  in  Europe.  And  of  the 
"  Knickerbocker  Group  "  which  claims  our  attention, 
no  name  is  more  widely  known  than  that  of  Washing- 
ton Irving. 


XII 

WASHINGTON   IRVING    (1783-1859) 

JUST  across  William  Street,  from  the  oldest  house  in 
New  York,  built  of  little  bricks  brought  from  Hol- 
land, there  stands  to-day  the  magnificent  Under- 
writers' Building,  over  the  site  where  long  ago  stood 
the  modest  house  in  which  Washington  Irving  first 
saw  the  light.  He  was  the  youngest  of  a  large 
family,  his  birthday,  April  thirteenth,  1783,  being 
just  at  the  close  of  the  Revolutionary  War. 

His  mother  said:  "Washington's  work  is  ended, 
the  child  shall  be  named  for  him !  "  and  "  The  Father 
of  his  Country  "  and  "  The  Father  of  American  Lit- 
erature "  met  just  once.  It  was  when  little  Irving 
was  six  years  old  that  one  day,  walking  with  his  nurse, 
they  saw  the  procession  escorting  Washington  to 
the  Treasury  —  to  take  the  oath  of  office  as  Presi- 
dent. 

His  nurse,  pushing  through  the  enthusiastic  crowd, 
exclaimed  eagerly  as  she  held  forth  her  small  charge : 
"  Please  your  Honour,  here's  a  bairn  was  named 
after  you!  "  and  George  Washington,  gently  touching 
his  head,  bestowed  a  blessing  upon  his  namesake. 

Like  many  another  genius,  Washington  Irving 
hated  school.  He  was,  however,  willing  to  scribble 

76 


WASHINGTON    IRVING    (1783-1859) 

by  the  hour,  and  was  always  glad  to  trade  essays  for 
problems.  Not  being  strong,  his  parents  encouraged 
an  out-of-door  life  —  and  how  he  loved  to  stroll! 

His  quests  began  with  the  Battery,  a  region  rich 
in  whimsical  lore;  about  the  pier-heads  he  wandered 
—  later  with  dog  and  gun  through  Westchester 
County,  captivated  with  hill  and  wood  and  the  witch- 
ery of  Sleepy  Hollow,  intently  listening  to  every 
recital  of  old  Dutch  legends.  He  sailed  up  the  Hud- 
son, gathering  folk-lore  all  the  way;  and  as  he  looked 
and  thought  and  listened  he  was  creating  a  native 
vein,  which  afterwards  he  was  to  weave  into  scenes 
of  romantic  imaginings,  to  endow  the  banks  of  our 
American  Rhine  with  priceless  legends. 

He  began  to  study  law  at  sixteen,  in  Judge  Hoff- 
man's office,  but  did  not  enjoy  it  —  but  he  loved  the 
play,  which  his  Puritanical  father  regarded  a  wicked 
amusement;  and  often  at  night  after  family  prayers 
he  would  climb  down  from  his  window,  and  joining 
his  friend  Paulding,  would  visit  the  old  John  Street 
Theatre. 

His  two  older  brothers,  after  graduating  at  King's 
College,  edited  "  The  Morning  Chronicle,"  to  which 
young  Washington,  at  nineteen,  contributed  some 
sportive  "  Jonathan  Oldstyle "  papers,  that  in  a 
small  degree  satirised  the  town  foibles.  But  he  could 
not  do  much;  for  year  by  year  he  seemed  to  grow 
more  consumptive,  until  when  he  was  twenty-one,  it 
was  decided  to  send  him  abroad  for  his  health  — 

77 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and  in  those  days  this  was  accounted  a  grand  tour! 

He  wandered  through  England  and  on  the  Con- 
tinent; saw  Kemble  and  Mrs.  Siddons;  listened  to  the 
famous  conversationalist,  Madame  de  Stael;  and  was 
received  by  literary  men  —  his  own  charm  of  manner 
proving  always  contagious.  He  specially  enjoyed 
Westminster  Abbey,  St.  Peter's,  and  the  Coliseum; 
and  meeting  Washington  Allston  in  Rome,  he  re- 
solved that  he,  too,  would  be  a  painter  —  but  in  three 
days,  he  changed  his  mind.  When  he  returned  home 
after  an  absence  of  two  years,  his  health  was  perfectly 
restored. 

Irving  never  seemed  ambitious  to  enter  upon  a 
career,  and  though  when  admitted  to  the  bar,  he  did 
hang  out  his  shingle  at  Number  3,  Wall  Street  (his 
brother  John's  house),  he  is  not  known  to  have  tried 
a  case.  He  loved  society,  saying  that  he  preferred 
to  be  a  champion  at  tea-parties. 

He  now  became  secret  partner  in  his  brother's  liter- 
ary ventures  and  with  his  friend  Paulding  began  the 
droll  and  sparkling  and  somewhat  youthful  "  Sal- 
magundi "  papers,  to  vex  and  charm  the  town  — 
"  Salmagundi,"  by  the  way  meaning  "  a  mixture  " 
or  "  hash."  They  were  written  in  Addison's  style 
—  for  Irving,  like  Franklin,  read  deeply  into  Addi- 
son. 

The  intention  of  the  infallible  editors  was  "  to  in- 
struct the  young,  inform  the  old,  correct  the  town, 
and  castigate  the  age."  And  they  did  it  —  and  just 

78 


FITZ-GREENE   HALLOCK  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 


WASHINGTON   IRVING    (1783-1850) 

at  the  full  tide  of  success,  they  suddenly  ceased! 
To-day  these  papers  are  a  humourous  reflection  of 
New  York  manners,  in  1708. 

In  1809,  appeared  Irving's  "  Knickerbocker  His- 
tory of  New  York,"  full  of  half-humourous,  half-real 
scenes,  descriptive  of  the  city,  from  the  beginning  of 
the  world  to  the  end  of  the  Dutch  dynasty.  Among 
the  amusing  characters  are  William  the  Testy  of  bril- 
liant achievement;  Peter  the  Headstrong,  with  silver 
leg  and  brimstone-coloured  breeches;  the  central 
figure  being  a  caricature  of  Governor  Wouter  Van 
Twiller  of  unutterable  ponderings,  who  represented 
the  "  Golden  Age  "  of  New  Amsterdam  history. 

This  illustrious  old  gentleman  was  shut  up  in 
himself  like  an  oyster.  He  seldom  spoke,  except  in 
monosyllables  —  but  then  it  was  allowed  that  he 
rarely  said  a  foolish  thing.  A  model  of  majesty  and 
lordly  grandeur,  he  was  formed  as  if  moulded  by  the 
hand  of  some  cunning  Dutch  statuary. 

He  ate  four  meals  a  day,  giving  exactly  one  hour 
to  each;  smoked  and  doubted  eight  hours;  slept  the 
remaining  twelve.  In  council,  he  presided  with  state 
and  solemnity,  instead  of  a  sceptre,  swaying  a  long 
Turkish  pipe;  and  during  any  deliberations  of  im- 
portance, he  would  sometimes  close  his  eyes  for  two 
hours  at  a  time  that  he  might  not  be  disturbed  by 
external  objects. 

This  "  Knickerbocker  History,"  combining  both 
fact  and  fancy,  is  called  by  many  the  first  readable 

79 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

book  in  American  literature.  Indeed,  some  make  its 
publication,  in  1809,  the  true  beginning  of  American 
literature.  It  was  at  once  most  popular,  both  here 
and  abroad.  All  the  world  laughed  —  except  the 
old  Dutch  burghers,  who  were  insulted  at  the  treat- 
ment of  their  ancestors;  but  the  humour  was  so  gen- 
tle that  even  with  them,  amusement  soon  followed 
annoyance,  and  New  York  was  most  proud  in  being 
invested  with  traditions  like  those  clinging  to  Old 
World  cities. 

While  engaged  in  this  work,  a  crushing  sorrow  had 
come  to  the  young  author,  in  the  death  of  Matilda, 
the  daughter  of  Judge  Hoffman,  to  whom  he  was  en- 
gaged. He  bore  the  blow  like  a  man  but  he  always 
mourned  her  and  never  married.  He  could  not 
bear,  in  years  to  come,  even  to  hear  her  name  men- 
tioned, and  always  treasured  her  Bible  and  Prayer 
Book.  Her  steadfast  friend,  Rebecca  Gratz,  the 
beautiful  Jewess,  Irving  later  described  so  enthusi- 
astically to  Scott  that  she  became  the  "  Rebecca  "  of 
his  "  Ivanhoe." 

Irving  was  devoted  to  women  and  little  children, 
and  with  his  gently  modulated  voice,  delightful  smile, 
and  almost  courtly  manner,  he  was  to  them  a  winning 
personage.  He  was  much  sought  for  in  society,  be- 
cause he  added  unusual  wit  and  geniality  to  conver- 
sation. One  of  his  special  admirers  in  Washington 
was  Dolly  Madison,  whose  picturesque  ways,  tactful 
sympathy,  and  extraordinary  popularity,  made  her 

8Q 


WASHINGTON   IRVING    (1783-1859) 

even  as  "Mistress  of  the  White  House" — just 
"  Dolly." 

Irving  determined  to  take  up  arms  in  the  War  of 
1812,  and  was  appointed  on  the  military  staff  of  the 
governor  of  New  York  —  but  all  was  over,  before 
he  distinguished  himself.  In  1815,  he  again  went 
abroad  to  look  after  the  interests  of  the  firm  of  "  Irv- 
ing Bros."  and  as  the  writer  of  "  The  Knickerbocker 
History,"  he  was  even  more  delightfully  received 
than  before.  He  soon  claimed  Southey,  Moore, 
Byron,  Coleridge,  Campbell,  Rogers,  Jeffrey  and 
Scott,  among  his  friends  —  and  he  flattered  them  by 
his  responsive  familiarity  with  their  works. 

Three  years  later  his  firm  failed;  and  now,  for  the 
first  time  thrown  upon  his  own  resources,  his  man- 
hood and  genius  came  to  the  fore,  and  he  determined 
to  support  his  family  by  adopting  literature  as  a 
profession,  and  he  settled  down  in  London  to  write 
—  rapidly  when  the  fit  was  upon  him  —  and  again 
waiting  days  for  an  inspiration. 

And  in  1819-20,  "  The  Sketch  Book  "  by  "  Geof- 
frey Crayon,  Gentleman,"  counted  as  Irving's  best 
work,  came  out  in  numbers  in  pamphlet  form.  It 
contained  short,  gracefully  told  stories,  with  unique 
literary  touch,  in  which  the  author  gave  free  play  to 
his  humour;  and  perhaps  the  most  famed  of  these 
sketches  is  "  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

This  legend  had  existed  in  various  European  forms 
but  Irving  brought  it  to  America.  He  peopled  the. 

81 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

rocky  crags  of  the  Catskills  with  mountain  sprites, 
and  there  it  was  that  the  thriftless,  lovable  vagabond, 
Rip  Van  Winkle,  watched  Hendrik  Hudson  and  his 
unruly  crew  play  nine-pins,  while  he  quaffed  the  magic 
liqueur  that  put  him  to  sleep  for  fifty  years. 

Another  scene —  and  this  is  laid  in  that  land  of 
Sleepy  Hollow,  where  the  people  were  always  doling 
out  wild  and  wonderful  legends ; —  and  sometimes  in 
the  golden  pomp  of  an  autumn  day,  we  may  yet 
imagine  Ichabod  Crane,  jogging  along  upon  choleric 
"  Gunpowder,"  to  win  the  heart  of  the  country 
coquette,  Katrina  Van  Tassel ;  or  shudder  at  night  as 
we  recall  the  frenzied  pedagogue  encountering  the 
"  Headless  Horseman,"  and  being  hurled  into  the 
dust  by  the  impact  of  the  pumpkin ! 

These  two  tales  would  have  made  "  The  Sketch 
Book "  immortal,  but  there  were  many  other 
sketches;  one  in  which  Irving  represents  the  sad 
dreariness  of  Westminster  Abbey  —  the  "  Empire  of 
the  Dead  " —  the  beginning  and  end  of  human  pomp 
and  power.  Again,  he  describes  Stratford-on-Avon 
so  delightfully  that,  he  sends  thousands  of  literary 
pilgrims  to  visit  Shakespeare's  home. 

Then  there  is  the  English  "  Christmas,"  in  which 
we  find  the  worthy  old  squire,  the  vast  hall  and  laden 
board,  the  crackling  fire  and  blazing  logs  —  the  ban- 
queting and  minstrelsy.  Others  there  are  —  but  we 
must  linger  only  to  beg  the  student  to  take  a  leisure 
hour  now  and  again,  to  enjoy  quietly  the  vague  and 

82 


WASHINGTON    IRVING    (1783-1859) 

exquisite  pictures  portrayed  in  "  The  Sketch  Book." 
"  His  '  Crayon,'  I  know  by  heart,"  said  Byron. 
Sir  Walter  Scott  read  it  aloud  to  his  family  till  his 
sides  were  sore  with  laughter;  and  then  in  his  quick 
appreciation,  introduced  Irving  to  his  publisher 
Murray,  and  the  latter  speedily  brought  it  out  — 
"  The  Sketch  Book."  It  was  at  once  honoured  on 
both  sides  the  Atlantic  and  "  Geoffrey  Crayon  "  was 
popularised.  "  Bracebridge  Hall,"  a  glimpse  of 
English  country  life,  and  "  The  Traveller,"  soon  fol- 
lowed. 

Spain  has  always  possessed  allurement  for  Ameri- 
cans; and  in  1828,  Irving  went  there  to  seek  facts 
for  a  life  of  Columbus  —  and  he  was  fortunate  in 
finding  illuminating  documents  that  had  been  hidden 
away  for  many  centuries.  In  his  u  Life  of  Colum- 
bus," he  presented  the  human  side  of  the  intrepid  dis- 
coverer; but  Irving  could  not  do  all  things,  and  his 
historic  accuracy  has  been  questioned.  His  "  Con- 
quest of  Granada,"  narrates  the  subjugation  of  the 
last  Moors  in  Spain,  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 
The  romantic  assaults  and  other  brilliant  achieve- 
ments of  his  knights  recall  vividly  the  mediaeval 
days. 

In  those  golden  months,  Irving  lived  within  "  The 
Alhambra,"  that  wonderful  palace  where  every 
mouldering  stone  held  its  chronicles.  He  raved  over 
the  exquisite  architecture  —  he  drew  forth  the  rich 
legends.  He  revelled  in  its  moonlight  enchantment 

83 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

when  the  halls  were  illumined  with  soft  radiance  — 
the  orange  and  citron  trees  tipped  with  silver  —  the 
fountains  sparkling  in  the  moonbeams  —  and  even 
the  blush  of  the  rose  faintly  visible;  and  with 
artistic  perception,  he  wove  the  old  tales  into  "  The 
Alhambra  "—  a  veritable  Spanish  "  Sketch  Book," 
instinct  with  Spanish  sights  and  sounds. 

In  1829,  Irving  returned  to  London  as  secretary 
of  legation;  and  among  the  honours  conferred  upon 
him  was  a  medal  at  Oxford,  of  the  "  R.  S.  L."  or 
"  Royal  Society  of  Literature";  and  he  received  it 
amid  shouts  of  "  Diedrich  Knickerbocker  1  "  "  Icha- 
bod  Crane!  "  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  1  " 

In  1831,  after  an  absence  of  seventeen  years,  Irv- 
ing returned  to  his  native  land  —  and  such  an  ovation 
as  he  received!  A  public  dinner  was  tendered  him 
at  the  City  Hotel,  in  New  York,  where  a  little  later, 
he  presided  over  one  given  to  Dickens.  Irving  could 
never  bear  to  preside,  and  after  presenting  Dickens 
in  the  most  abrupt  way,  he  terminated  with  the  aside : 
"  I've  told  you  I  should  break  down  and  I've  done 
it!" 

He  was  amazed  at  the  growth  of  New  York  City 
and  at  the  expansion  of  the  country;  and  under  a 
commission  to  the  Indian  tribes  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, he  made  an  extended  trip,  embodying  his  ex- 
periences in  a  "  Tour  on  the  Prairies,"  and  the  de- 
scription of  this  land  known  only  to  the  trapper  is 
interesting  reading  to-day.  To  this  period,  also,  be- 

84 


WASHINGTON    IRVING    (1783-1859). 

longs  "  Astoria,"  arranged  at  the  instance  of  his 
warm  friend,  Mr.  John  Jacob  Astor,  and  giving,  with 
other  details,  an  account  of  the  fur-trading  settlement 
of  the  Astors  in  Oregon. 

And  he  bought  "  Sunnyside,"  at  Tarrytown,  a 
little  farm  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson  not  far  from 
his  loved  Sleepy  Hollow  —  with  a  snug  and  pictur- 
esque house  "  as  full  of  gables  as  Peter  Stuyvesant's 
cocked  hat."  It  was  surrounded  by  ancient  weather- 
vanes  and  soon  was  overrun  with  ivy  from  Melrose 
Abbey.  At  the  right  was  Irving's  library  where  he 
wrote  his  last  books;  at  the  left  the  dining-room  with 
the  old  mahogany  furniture,  and  from  this  room  be- 
yond was  a  lovely  view  of  the  river. 

From  here,  ten  years  later,  Irving  was  called  by 
Daniel  Webster  —  then  Secretary  of  State  under 
President  Tyler  —  to  become  Minister  to  Spain,  and 
he  accepted;  but  Spain  had  lost  its  glamour,  and  his 
heart  always  yearned  for  "  Sunnyside." 

After  four  years,  he  went  back  there  to  spend  his 
closing  days  amid  the  scenes  of  his  early  delight. 
Here  his  sister  presided  and  the  house  "  was  well- 
stocked  with  nieces."  It  was  "  the  best  house  to 
which  an  old  bachelor  ever  came  ";  he  had  "  but  to 
walk  in,  hang  up  his  hat,  kiss  his  nieces,  and  take 
his  seat  in  his  elbow-chair  for  the  remainder  of  his 
life." 

And  in  this  intellectual  "  Mecca,"  he  was  visited 
by  Paulding  and  Willis  and  Dr.  Holmes  and  Prescott 

85 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

and  Thackeray  and  Louis  Napoleon  and  other  celeb- 
rities; and  they  strolled  under  the  sycamore  trees 
and  gazed  away  over  the  broad  Tappan  Zee,  flecked 
with  its  tiny  craft. 

Irving  was  annoyed  when  he  heard  that  a  railroad 
might  be  run  along  the  bank  of  the  Hudson  right  un- 
der his  home,  and  sincerely  hoped  that  the  project 
might  not  be  carried  out;  and  he  fully  believed  that  if 
the  Garden  of  Eden  were  then  in  existence,  the  "  pro- 
gressive prospectors  "  would  not  hesitate  to  run  a 
railroad  straight  through  it;  and  he  heartily  wished 

—  as  others  have  done  since  —  that  he  might  have 
been  born  when  the  world  was  finished!     But  when 
all  was  completed,  he  yielded  gracefully.     Of  course 
he  did !  for  was  he  not  the  optimist  that  once  said : 
11  When  I  cannot  get  a  dinner  to  suit  my  taste,  I  en- 
deavour to  get  a  taste  to  suit  my  dinner !  " 

At  "  Sunnyside,"  Irving  wrote  his  later  sketches 

—  one  collection  entitled  "  Wolfert's  Roost" — and 
in  1849,  his  "  Life  of  Goldsmith";  and  there  was 
such  sympathy  between  Irving's  spirit  and  that  of  the 
gay,  unthinking,  struggling  poet  that  the  u  Life  "  is 
winsome  and  lovely.     Thackeray  styles  Irving  "  The 
Goldsmith  of  our  Age.n 

Irving  never  forgot  that  George  Washington  had 
touched  him  when  a  child,  and  now  in  old  age,  he 
would  touch  the  life  of  the  great  "  Father  of  his 
Country";  and  with  his  "Life  of  Washington,"  he 
concludes  his  literary  career.  His  genius  not  being 

86 


WASHINGTON    IRVING    (1783-1859) 

adapted  to  the  minute  details  and  accuracy  which  such 
a  record  requires,  it  is  not  perhaps  a  historical  suc- 
cess. But  like  Columbus,  Washington  in  his  hands 
became  as  Fresco tt  says : — 

"  Not  a  cold  marble  statue  of  a  demi-god,  but  a  being  of 
flesh  and  blood  like  ourselves." 

And  Irving  wrote  many  other  things ;  yet  we  do  not 
recall  this  "  Story  King  of  the  Hudson  "  by  his  nu- 
merous works  —  but  by  the  "  Knickerbocker  His- 
tory," "  The  Sketch  Book,"  "  The  Alhambra,"  and 
"  The  Life  of  Goldsmith." 

He  was  a  familiar  figure  in  the  city  of  New  York 
and  was  asked  to  become  its  mayor,  and  he  was  the 
first  president  of  the  Astor  Library.  More  than 
once  he  was  offered  a  position  in  the  President's 
Cabinet,  but  his  cherished  aim  was  a  life  of  letters, 
and  it  was  thought  that  he  made  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  with  his  pen.  As  he  approached  his 
eightieth  year,  ill  health  and  much  pain  came  to  him, 
so  that  he  was  forced  to  lay  down  his  pen  but  not  his 
cheerful  spirit. 

He  died  on  November  twenty-eighth,  1859,  and 
he  had  that  very  year  completed  his  "  Life  of  Wash- 
ington." His  funeral  took  place  at  Christ  Church, 
Tarrytown,  which  for  many  years  he  had  served  as 
vestryman,  and  a  large  number  from  the  guild  of 
letters  streamed  by  the  altar  to  look  upon  his  face; 
and  at  the  close  of  a  lovely  Indian  summer  day,  he 

87 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

was  borne  by  a  great  concourse  of  friends  to  Sleepy 
Hollow  Cemetery  —  and  ever  since  the  elequent  trib- 
ute of  a  well-worn  path  leads  to  the  modest  slab  that 
marks  his  grave. 

Through  the  courtesy  of  the  present  owner,  Wash- 
ington Irving's  grand-nephew,  the  literary  devotee 
may  to-day  visit  the  library  at  "  Sunnyside,"  entering 
it  from  the  square  stone  porch.  It  is  a  highly  inter- 
esting little  room,  and  holds  Irving's  great  writing- 
table,  his  chair  and  portraits  as  he  left  them.  Here 
the  walls  are  lined  with  bookcases,  containing  choice 
editions,  many  of  them  presented  by  the  authors. 

The  out-doors,  too,  has  memorials  of  Irving,  here 
is  his  river  view  and  the  broad  meadow,  the  brook 
and  the  hill;  here  are  the  tall  trees  that  he  planted, 
where  the  "  birds  in  the  fulness  of  their  revelry  "  still 
"  flutter  and  chirp  and  frolic." 

We  visit  the  site  of  the  old  bridge,  famed  in  goblin 
story,  and  watch  the  new  one  now  under  construction ; 
and  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  on  a  green  knoll  still 
shaded  by  trees,  stands  the  haunted  church  with  its 
antique  Dutch  weather-cocks. 

In  Christ  Church,  we  find  Irving's  pew  carefully 
set  apart  in  the  Baptistery,  and  over  it  is  a  mural  in- 
scription and  coat-of-arms  with  three  holly  leaves  — 
and  it  is  interesting  that  he  who  loved  legend  could 
claim  an  emblazoned  one. 

It  appears  that  Irving's  Scotch  ancestors,  the  De 
Irvines,  secreted  Robert  Bruce  when  fleeing  from  his 

88 


WASHINGTON    IRVING    (1783-1859) 

enemies.  One  of  them  became  his  cup-bearer  and 
was  hidden  with  him  in  a  copse  of  holly ;  and  in  mem- 
ory of  his  escape,  Bruce  adopted  three  holly  leaves 
and  the  motto,  "  Sub  sole,  sub  umbra,  virens."  In 
return  for  De  Irvine's  fidelity,  Bruce  later  conferred 
upon  him  both  the  badge  and  Drum  Castle  —  and 
the  Irvings  have  retained  the  holly  leaves. 

Irving  did  not  try  for  great  things.  "  My  writ- 
ings," he  said,  "  may  appear  light  and  trifling  in  our 
country  of  philosophers  and  politicians,  but  if  they 
possess  merit  in  the  class  of  literature  to  which  they 
belong,  it  is  all  to  which  I  aspire." 

"  Jonathan  Oldstyle  "— uDiedrich  Knickerbocker  " 
— "  Geoffrey  Crayon  " —  our  beloved  Washington 
Irving!  Thackeray  calls  him:  "  The  first  Ambassa- 
dor of  Letters  from  the  New  World  to  the  Old." 

Lowell  says :  — 

"  But  allow  me  to  speak  what  I  honestly  feel, — 
To  a  true  poet-heart  add  the  fun  of  Dick  Steele, 
Throw  in  all  of  Addison,  minus  the  chill, 
With  the  whole  of  that  partnership's  stock  and  good  will, 
Mix  well,  and  while  stirring,  hum  o'er,  as  a  spell, 
The  fine  old  English  Gentleman  simmer  it  well, 
Sweeten  just  to  your  own  private  liking,  then  strain, 
That  only  the  finest  and  clearest  remain, 
Let  it  stand  out-of-doors  till  a  soul  it  receives 
From  the  warm  lazy  sun  loitering  down  through  green 

leaves, 

And  you'll  find  a  choice  nature,  not  wholly  deserving, 
A  name  either  English  or  Yankee, —  just  Irving." 

89 


XIII 

JAMES    FENIMORE    COOPER    (1789-1851) 

EACH  early  writer  gave  of  his  best  to  broaden  our 
youthful  literature:  Charles  Brockden  Brown  his 
crude,  weird  novels  —  Irving  his  storied  sketches  — 
and  now  Cooper  is  to  bring  his  offering  from  both 
forest  and  ocean. 

He  was  born  in  Burlington,  New  Jersey,  on  the 
fifteenth  of  September,  1789,  and  while  a  mere  baby, 
his  father,  Judge  Cooper,  who  owned  thousands  of 
acres  of  land  in  Central  New  York,  removed  to  the 
wilderness  of  Otsego  Lake.  Here  he  built  "  Otsego 
Hall,"  a  kind  of  feudal  castle,  over  which  he  pre- 
sided like  the  baronial  lord  of  old,  parcelling  out  his 
estate  to  other  settlers,  and  a  village  was  cut  out  and 
named  Cooperstown  in  his  honour. 

And  James,  one  of  a  family  of  twelve  children, 
passed  his  boyhood  on  the  edge  of  the  vast,  myste- 
rious forest  which  sheltered  alike  Indian  and  wild 
beast.  Fearless,  high-spirited,  and  impressionable, 
he  learned  to  love  the  sounds  of  woods  and  water. 
He  became  familiar  with  wigwam  life  and  the  tricks 
of  the  trapper.  Fond  of  adventure,  rifle  in  hand  he 
would  spend  whole  days  with  the  pioneers,  studying 

90 


JAMES    FENIMORE   COOPER 

the  secrets  of  the  woodland  and  the  craft  of  the  sav- 
age. 

Sometimes  in  the  evenings  he  would  listen  to  po- 
litical discussions  between  Federalist  and  Anti-Fed- 
eralist; for  his  father,  Judge  Cooper,  was  a  Member 
of  Congress  and  an  ardent  politician,  and  James  al- 
ways formed  an  independent  opinion. 

He  went  first  to  a  village  school  and  later  to  Al- 
bany to  be  tutored,  and  at  thirteen  entered  Yale  Col- 
lege, then  under  the  leadership  of  President  Dwight. 
The  restraints  of  the  college  were  not  to  the  liking  of 
such  an  unfettered  youth,  and  in  the  third  year  he  was 
dismissed  for  a  boyish  frolic.  It  was  such  a  pity  that 
he  did  not  persevere  until  he  had  at  least  attained  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  English;  for  in  maturer 
years,  his  ignorance  in  construction  too  often  showed 
itself  in  careless  literary  work. 

Judge  Cooper,  now  feeling  that  his  son  needed 
discipline,  sent  him  into  the  navy,  and  in  1806,  he 
shipped  before  the  mast  for  a  year's  cruise.  Later 
he  was  promoted  to  a  lieutenancy  and  for  a  time 
served  on  the  quarter-deck  of  a  man-of-war,  and  was 
also  stationed  at  Oswego;  and  in  his  four  years7  ex- 
perience, he  learned  much  about  ships  and  sailors, 
the  Great  Lakes,  the  sea  and  its  imagery. 

And  then  the  handsome  young  naval  officer  offered 
himself  to  Miss  de  Lancey  of  "  Heathcote  Hall,"  in 
Westchester  County,  and  when  she  accepted  him,  he 
promptly  resigned  his  commission.  After  their 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

marriage,  they  lived  in  different  homes  —  the  first 
being  dubbed  "  Closet  Hall  "  from  its  diminutive 
size.  In  the  second,  a  picturesque  cottage,  Cooper 
began  his  literary  career,  and  this  is  associated  with 
the  following  incident: 

One  day  while  reading  a  stupid  English  novel 
aloud  to  his  wife,  he  suddenly  threw  down  the  book, 
declaring  that  he  could  write  a  better  one!  His  in- 
credulous wife  playfully  challenged  him;  he  took  up 
the  challenge,  and  presently  produced  his  "  Pre- 
caution." It  was  about  English  society,  a  subject 
of  which  he  was  perfectly  ignorant  —  so  it  was  weak 
and  dull. 

But  through  doing  it,  he  discovered  his  own  possi- 
bilities and  a  friend  encouraged  him  to  try  again  — 
using  precaution  in  selecting  a  theme  with  which  he 
was  familiar  —  and  he  tried  and  succeeded.  The 
title  of  this  second  novel  was  u  The  Spy  " ;  and  the 
scene  was  laid  in  Westchester  County  where  he  had 
heard  many  tales  of  plundered  farm  and  hamlet,  of 
plot  and  counterplot  and  bloody  strife  in  the  Revolu- 
tionary War. 

Cooper  was  a  frequent  guest  at  "  Bedford  House/' 
the  home  of  the  Jays;  and  here  one  afternoon  seated 
upon  the  piazza,  he  had  grown  greatly  interested 
in  the  story  of  a  grave,  sagacious,  and  nameless  pa- 
triot, who  had  served  the  Jays  as  a  spy  during  the 
war. 

He  took  him  for  his  hero;  and  for  his  occupation 

92 


JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER 

and  appearance,  he  selected  a  versatile  peddler,  who, 
"  staff  in  hand  and  pack  at  back,'1  frequently  passed 
his  door  —  and  Harvey  Birch,  the  faithful  spy,  as 
moulded  by  Cooper,  was  at  once  a  master-spirit  in 
fiction;  and  landmarks  associated  with  Cooper's 
homes  and  with  the  war-lore  of  "  The  Spy  "  are  to- 
day recalled  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Mamaroneck 
and  New  Rochelle. 

And  if  you  would  know  with  what  different  eyes 
Irving  and  Cooper  looked  out  upon  Westchester 
County  scenes,  read  "  The  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hol- 
low "  and  then  "  The  Spy."  One  spread  over  the 
land  the  halo  of  romance  —  the  other  developed 
local  patriotism. 

4  The  Spy "  had  wide  circulation  not  only  in 
America  and  England,  but  was  translated  into  for- 
eign languages;  indeed,  it  was  read  even  to  Persia 
and  the  Holy  Land,  to  Mexico  and  South  America 
—  and  Cooper's  surprise  was  unbounded. 

After  his  real  entrance  upon  literary  pursuits,  he 
made  his  home  in  New  York  for  three  or  four  years. 
It  was  here  that  he  started  the  noted  "  Bread  and 
Cheese  Club  " — so  called  because  in  electing  mem- 
bers, "  bread "  was  used  for  an  affirmative  and 
11  cheese  "  for  a  negative  vote. 

The  deliberations  were  held  in  Washington  Hall. 
Bryant,  Halleck,  Percival,  and  other  well-known  men 
belonged.  Cooper  was  a  conspicuous  figure  in 
"  The  Den,"  a  celebrated  lounging-place  for  authors 

93 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

— "  The  Den  "  being  a  back  room  in  Wiley's  book- 
store in  Wall  Street.  Cooper  always  numbered 
among  his  friends  the  best  and  most  prominent  citi- 
zens. 

In  his  next  novel,  "  The  Pioneers,"  Cooper  uses 
the  wilderness  as  a  background;  and  here  we  meet 
for  the  first  time  the  primitive  American  Hawk 
Eye,  or  Natty  Bumppo,  a  gentle,  deliberate  and 
manly  child  of  Nature  whom  the  Indians  call 
Leather  Stocking.  It  takes  five  tales  to  unfold 
his  adventurous  career,  and  through  these  he  becomes 
one  of  the  celebrated  characters  of  fiction.  "  A 
Drama  in  Five  Acts  "  Cooper  termed  them  and  as  we 
read  on,  we  grow  very  fond  of  this  philosopher  of 
the  woods. 

We  must  not  take  the  books  in  the  order  in  which 
Cooper  wrote  them  —  for  he  buried  and  resuscitated 
Natty  Bumppo,  but  this  must  be  our  sequence; 
"The  Deer  Slayer";  "  Last  of  the  Mohicans "; 
"  Pathfinder  ";  "  Pioneers  ";  and  "  Prairie." 

And  after  "  The  Pioneers,"  he  wrote  "  The 
Pilot."  This  was  the  outcome  of  a  dispute  about 
Scott's  "  Pirate  " —  Cooper  insisting  that  Scott  could 
have  written  a  better  sea-tale,  if  he  had  ever  been  a 
sailor;  and  he  wrote  "  The  Pilot  "  to  prove  his  point, 
and  in  it  he  caught  a  graphic  portraiture.  Long 
Tom  Coffin,  the  Nantucket  whaler,  sturdy,  homely 
and  full  of  action,  we  recognise  as  the  gallant  Revo- 
lutionary hero,  John  Paul  Jones.  The  action  is 

94 


JAMES    FENIMORE    COOPER 

splendid  —  the  tale  savours  of  salty  tang  as  had  the 
forest  tales,  of  spruce  and  hemlock. 

Cooper  has  sometimes  been  called  "  The  Ameri- 
can Scott."  It  is  true  that  both  were  story-tellers 
but  Scott  had  more  humour;  he  never  lingered  over 
side  issues  like  Cooper,  but  went  slowly  and  surely 
to  the  heart  of  his  story;  Cooper  could  never  make 
people  talk  while  Scott  indulged  in  long  conversa- 
tions ;  Scott  created  many  prominent  characters  while 
Cooper  has  but  few.  But  after  writing  '  The 
Pilot,"  the  conservative  "  Edinburgh  Review  "  an- 
nounced that  the  "  Empire  of  the  Sea  "  had  been  con- 
ceded to  Cooper  by  acclaim. 

In  1826,  the  second  "  Leather  Stocking  Tale," 
"  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans,"  was  published.  Some 
consider  this  Cooper's  masterpiece.  Chingach- 
gook  and  his  son  Uncas  are  manly,  noble  Indians; 
they  are  true  to  life  as  far  as  they  go,  but  they 
are  not  representative  Indians  —  but  Cooper  had  a 
right,  if  he  chose,  to  leave  out  the  uglier  types  of 
the  race. 

In  the  same  year,  1826,  Cooper  went  abroad  and 
remained  seven  years;  and  in  Europe  he  wrote  "  The 
Prairie" — his  most  poetic  of  the  "Leather  Stock- 
ing "  series  — "  The  Red  Rover,"  and  other  fine 
sea-tales.  And  it  was  wonderful  how  his  swift  pop- 
ularity amazed  the  world !  for  his  books  were  at  once 
published  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  —  not  only 
in  English  but  in  many  languages:  among  others, 

95 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

French  and  German  and  Norwegian  and  Russian 
and  Arabic  and  Persian.  It  is  said  that  of  all  other 
American  authors,  only  Mrs.  Stowe  with  her  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin  "  reached  such  celebrity. 

In  1833,  Morse,  the  inventor  of  the  telegraph, 
writes :  — 

"  In  every  city  of  Europe  that  I  visited,  the  works  of 
Cooper  were  conspicuously  placed  in  the  windows  of  every 
book-shop.  They  are  published  as  soon  as  he  produces  them 
in  thirty-four  different  places.  They  have  been  seen  by 
American  travellers  in  the  language  of  Turkey  and  Persia, 
in  Constantinople,  in  Egypt,  at  Jerusalem,  at  Ispahan. 
England  is  reading  Irving — Europe  is  reading  Cooper." 

It  was  the  novelty  of  his  subject  that  held  all  cap- 
tive, and  for  a  time  he  had  the  field  to  himself;  and 
it  is  disappointing  to  approach  another  side  of 
Cooper's  character  which  embittered  his  closing 
years,  and  rendered  his  later  works  unpopular. 
This  was  his  controversial  spirit.  Of  a  forcible,  im- 
petuous disposition,  full  of  prejudice,  he  could  never 
brook  a  hostile  criticism. 

A  fearless  fighter,  there  was  to  him  no  neutral 
ground.  Every  critical  speech  about  our  young  Re- 
public he  attacked  in  word  and  writing,  and  on  his 
return  "  lectured  his  countrymen  gratis " ;  for  he 
liked  not  their  manners,  their  love  of  gain,  and  fond- 
ness for  boasting  and  admiration.  So  in  his  books 
he  strayed  away  from  the  path  of  the  story-teller  to 

96 


MONUMENT  TO  J.  FENIMORE  COOPER,  COOPERSTOWN,  N.  Y. 


JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER 

lash  both  Europe  and  Africa,  and  naturally  made 
many  enemies. 

In  all  this,  he  was  most  unjust  to  himself,  for  at 
heart  he  was  a  true  patriot;  he  had  a  strong,  kindly 
face  and  genial  address  —  and  was  a  lover  of 
friends  and  home.  Bryant  says  that  "  his  character 
was  like  the  bark  of  the  cinnamon  tree  —  a  rough 
and  astringent  rind  outside,  and  an  intense  sweet- 
ness within." 

And  now  for  over  half  a  century,  critics  have  been 
busy  with  Cooper's  fame.  It  must  be  granted  that 
he  did  express  too  freely  his  prejudices;  that  his  per- 
spective was  bad;  that  he  was  deliberate  even  to 
tediousness;  and  that  he  wrote  many  books  indiffer- 
ently rather  than  a  few  well.  Indeed,  some  of  them 
are  never  read,  and  Mark  Twain  has  striven  to  prove 
that  he  cannot  write  a  story;  and  Lowell,  the  irate 
censor,  after  honouring  Natty  Bumppo  and  Long 
Tom  Coffin  says:  "All  his  other  men  figures 
are  clothes  upon  sticks."  But  allowing  all  this, 
we  study  an  author  from  two  points  of  view  — 
his  own  day  and  ours  — and  Cooper  is  very  much  alive 
in  his  "  Leather  Stockings  Tales  "  and  a  few  of  his 
sea-novels. 

Himself  a  lover  of  forest,  Cooper  was  like  a  strap- 
ping woodsman  who  stuck  his  axe  into  a  dense  wood 
of  tangling  branches,  and  the  clearing  grew  until  he 
descried  Chingachgook  and  Uncas  and  Leather 
Stocking;  and  through  them  ever  since  has  been 

97 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

interpreted  for  us  the  spirit  of  the  wilder- 
ness; or  again  Turner-like,  Cooper  has  ventured  far 
out  over  the  stormy  wave,  where  amid  clang  of  the 
tempest,  the  man-of-war  grapples  with  the  whistling 
hulk  of  the  enemy;  and  later  writers  have  learned 
from  him  to  spin  sea-yarns. 

No:  let  the  critics  wage  their  war.  Harvey 
{  Birch,  Leather  Stocking  and  Chingachgook  and 
Uncas  and  Long  Tom  Coffin  will  live  on  and  on  in 
their  wonderful  world  of  action. 

We  must  read  Cooper  in  a  leisure  mood  and  we 
must  continue  reading.  Julian  Hawthorne  wisely 
remarks:  "  We  proceed  majestically  from  one  stir- 
ring event  to  another,  and  though  we  never  move 
faster  than  a  contemplative  walk,  we  know  like  the 
man  on  the  way  to  the  scaffold  that  nothing  can  hap- 
pen till  we  get  there !  " 

Though  the  settings  of  the  novels  are  in  rough 
places,  they  are  pure  and  patriotic  books  to  give 
into  the  hands  of  youth  and  maiden.  Every  boy  is 
himself  a  story-teller  and  an  adventurer ;  and  as  gen- 
erations of  boys  have  pored  over  Cooper's  romantic 
dramas,  they  have  given  them  most  uncritical  popu- 
larity. 

On  Cooper's  return  from  Europe,  he  mounted  a 
house  in  Bleecker  Street,  New  York  City,  with  French 
furniture  and  French  servants;  but  he  finally  went 
back  to  his  ancestral  home  at  Cooperstown  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  It  was  a  house  of  generous  dimen- 

98 


JAMES   FENIMORE   COOPER 

sions,  set  among  stately  elms  and  maples,  and  of  a 
beautiful  hospitality;  and  in  the  gathering  twilight, 
he  would  pace  up  and  down  the  great  hall,  pondering 
over  chapters  from  his  books  —  for  his  pen  was 
never  idle. 

On  his  death-bed  he  begged  his  family  not  to  aid 
in  any  preparation  of  his  life  —  for  he  wished  the 
controversies  forgotten.  He  died  on  the  fourteenth 
of  September,  1851,  and  was  buried  in  the  neigh- 
bouring churchyard. 

Afterwards  the  homestead  was  burned;  and  the 
materials  and  furniture  rescued  from  the  ruins  were 
used  in  the  picturesque  cottage  of  his  gifted  daugh- 
ter Susan.  A  bronze  statue  of  the  "  Indian 
Hunter, "  by  J.  Q.  A.  Ward  —  a  facsimile  of  the  one 
in  Central  Park  —  now  stands  on  the  site  of  "  Otsego 
Hall." 

But  Cooper  seems  yet  to  permeate  the  village, 
beautiful  for  situation.  Whether  we  float  upon  its 
lake  in  its  emerald  setting,  or  tread  the  woodsy  way 
—  everywhere  we  find  reminders  of  his  genius ;  for 
street  and  inn  and  boat  and  brook  and  falls  bear  the 
name  of  some  book  or  character  evolved  by  him; 
and  upon  a  sculptured  shaft  overlooking  Otsego 
Lake,  the  rugged  figure  of  Leather  Stocking  ap- 
pears —  an  emblem  of  fearless  energy. 

Five  months  after  Cooper's  death,  a  commemora- 
tive meeting  was  held  in  New  York.  Daniel  Web- 
ster —  the  representative  statesman  of  the  day  —  pre- 
99 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

sided,  and  in  his  address  suggested  that  Cooper's 
works,  so  truly  patriotic  and  American,  should  find  a 
place  in  every  American  library.  Bryant,  as  very 
often  on  such  occasions,  was  orator,  and  after  speak- 
ing of  Cooper's  life  and  books,  he  said:  — 

"  Such  are  the  works  so  widely  read,  and  so  universally 
admired  in  all  zones  of  the  globe,  and  by  men  of  every  kin- 
dred and  every  tongue;  books  which  have  made  those  who 
dwell  in  remote  latitudes,  wanderers  in  our  forests  and 
observers  of  our  manners,  and  have  inspired  them  all  with 
an  interest  in  our  history." 


TOO 


XIV 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT    (1794-1878) 

POETRY  is  a  divine  gift  and  true  poets  see  visions; 
and  we  may  enter  into  special  intimacy  with  these 
seers  and  prophets  as  their  varied  inspirations  suit 
our  varied  moods.  Thus  far  our  tale  has  been  most 
prosaic  —  but  now  the  poetic  dawn  is  breaking  — 
as  with  Irving,  "  Story  King  of  the  Hudson,"  and 
Cooper,  "  Novelist  of  Forest  and  Ocean,"  we  asso- 
ciate William  Cullen  Bryant,  "  Father  of  American 
Song." 

The  parents  both  traced  their  ancestry  from  May- 
flower Pilgrims  —  the  mother  directly  from  John 
Alden  —  and  William  Cullen,  one  of  a  family  of 
seven  children,  was  born  at  Cummington,  Massachu- 
setts, November  third,  1794.  Some  think  that  he 
was  not  an  unusual  child,  but  he  knew  his  letters 
before  he  was  two  and  at  five  could  repeat  Watts's 
Hymns. 

In  the  old  Puritan  home,  children  brought  up  in 
the  fear  of  God  were  expected  to  study  the  Bible, 
and  he  was  so  familiar  with  his  own,  that  at  nine 
he  had  turned  the  first  chapter  of  Job  into  classical 
couplets.  He  caught  his  early,  stately  forms  of  ex- 
pression from  the  prayers  that  he  heard  in  church 

101 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and  at  family  worship.  Poetic  little  Puritan  that  he 
was,  he  used  one  daring  variation  in  his  own  inter- 
cessions "  that  he  might  receive  the  gift  of  genius 
and  write  verses  that  should  endure." 

The  scholarly  father  was  a  country  physician,  and 
looked  carefully  after  his  puny  boy's  education. 
The  mother  did  all  the  work  for  her  family;  she 
cooked  and  washed  and  ironed  and  spun,  and  one 
day  "  made  for  Cullen  a  coat!  " 

In  the  "St.  Nicholas"  of  December,  1876,  Bry- 
ant tells  delightfully  the  story  of  his  boyhood;  and  in 
it  he  emphasises  the  awe  in  which  boys  in  that  day 
held  parents  and  all  elderly  persons,  observing  in 
their  presence  a  hushed  and  subdued  demeanour,  this 
being  specially  marked  towards  ministers  of  the 
Gospel. 

Bryant's  early  education  consisted  in  attendance  at 
a  district-school,  and  being  tutored  by  two  clergymen. 
Devoted  to  classical  study,  he  in  time  became  a  fine 
linguist.  He  belonged  to  a  family  addicted  to 
rhyming,  and  his  own  talent  early  blossomed  into 
verse.  At  ten,  short  poems  appeared  in  the  news- 
paper. His  knowledge  of  metre  was  caught  from 
Pope's  translation  of  "  The  Iliad  " ;  and  he  told  his 
friend  Dana,  years  later,  that  when  a  copy  of  Words- 
worth's "  Lyrical  Ballads  "  fell  into  his  hands,  "  a 
thousand  springs  seemed  to  gush  up  at  once  in  his 
heart  —  and  the  face  of  Nature  of  a  sudden  changed 
into  a  strange  freshness  and  life."  Indeed,  no  other 

102 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

American  poet  has  equalled  Bryant  in  boyhood 
achievement. 

We  hear  little  of  his  youthful  sports,  but  we  do 
know  that  whenever  he  could  "  steal  an  hour  from 
study  and  care,"  he  would  wander  in  the  woods;  and 
he  became  the  first  laureate  of  the  sky  and  forest  and 
birds  and  brooks  and  meadows  and  granite  hills  of 
Western  Massachusetts.  Nearly  every  poem  con- 
tains a  bit  of  scenery. 

Even  as  a  youth,  the  mysteries  of  life  puzzled  him, 
and  he  tried  by  communing  with  Nature  to  learn  her 
secrets;  and  it  was  this  tendency  to  brood  over  life 
as  a  preparation  for  death  that  led  to  his  "  Thana- 
topsis,"  or  "  Glimpse  of  Death."  This  poem  repre- 
sents a  lofty  religious  philosophy,  redolent  of  Puri- 
tan faith  —  a  striking  conception  of  time  and  eternity 
— "  a  kind  of  requiem  of  the  universe." 

It  was  five  or  six  years  after  he  wrote  it  that  his 
father  found  it  with  another  poem  in  a  drawer,  and 
in  his  paternal  pride,  unknown  to  his  son,  he  started 
literally  post-haste  to  Boston  one  hundred  miles  dis- 
tant to  offer  it  to  the  publishers  of  "  The  North  Amer- 
ican Review  " ;  and  as  Phillips,  one  of  the  editors, 
read  it  aloud  to  the  others,  one  of  them  exclaimed: 

"  Ah,  Phillips,  you  have  been  imposed  upon  —  no 
one  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  could  write  such 
verses !  "  But  with  "  Thanatopsis  "  true  poetry  had 
come  to  America.  It  was  the  soul  utterance  of  a 
youth  of  seventeen  —  the  most  famous  thing  written 

103 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

by  one  of  that  age  in  our  land  —  and  it  is  read  to- 
day with  reverent  earnestness. 

Bryant  was  in  Williams  College  for  less  than  a 
year  and  then  was  honourably  dismissed.  He  would 
have  entered  Yale,  but  Dr.  Bryant  was  unable  to  pay 
tuition  bills;  so  regretfully  his  son  took  up  the  study 
of  law,  and  worked  very  hard  in  order  to  support 
himself  as  soon  as  possible,  and  in  1815,  he  was  ad- 
mitted to  the  bar.  It  was  while  practising  in  Great 
Barrington  that  he  fell  in  love  with  Fanny  Fairchild, 
u  Fairest  of  the  rural  maids !  "  and  married  her. 

Shortly  after  his  marriage,  a  paper-covered  book 
of  forty-four  pages,  containing  eight  of  Bryant's 
poems,  was  issued  by  the  Cambridge  Press.  Among 
these  was  the  one  "  To  a  Waterfowl,"  embodying 
its  lesson  of  faith,  and  "  The  Yellow  Violet,"  one  of 
the  earliest  tributes  to  an  American  flower;  for  Bry- 
ant was  one  of  the  first  to  announce  in  poetic  way 
that  the  flowers  and  birds  of  America  are  unlike 
those  of  England. 

The  little  volume  included,  also,  "  The  Entrance 
to  a  Wood,"  conveying  the  promise  of  calm  to  him 
who  lingers  in  its  quiet  haunts;  "The  Ages,"  read 
before  Harvard  College;  and  "  Thanatopsis." 

This  book  made  him  again  prominent;  but  at  the 
end  of  five  years,  he  had  realised  from  its  sale  but 
fourteen  dollars  and  ninety-two  cents.  It  is  now 
most  valuable  as  our  first  publication  of  creative 
poetry,  and  General  James  Grant  Wilson  tells  us 

104 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

that  not  very  long  ago,  he  paid  ten  dollars  for  a  sin- 
gle copy. 

Young  Bryant  felt  a  growing  distaste  for  law,  and 
an  increasing  love  for  literature;  and  in  1825,  he 
made  his  way  to  New  York,  which  was  then  a  literary 
as  well  as  commercial  centre.  He  came  as  a  kind  of 
adventurer,  and  obtained  employment  on  a  short- 
lived periodical,  and  in  four  years  was  principal 
editor  of  "  The  Evening  Post."  This  position  he 
held  for  over  fifty  years,  never  permitting  journalism 
to  interfere  with  his  lyric  muse. 

When  we  think  that  Bryant  lived  during  the  ad- 
ministration of  nineteen  Presidents  —  from  Wash- 
ington to  Hayes  —  and  that  during  this  time,  the 
number  of  States  increased  from  fifteen  to  thirty- 
eight,  we  may  realise  that  editorial  work  on  a  lead- 
ing paper  for  half  a  century  of  that  period  was  most 
arduous;  specially  as  he  felt  obliged  to  infuse  into 
'  The  Evening  Post "  his  Democratic  principles,  and 
further  on,  his  equally  ardent  Republican  ones.  He 
was  fond  of  travel  and  went  abroad  six  times  — 
sending  to  the  paper  descriptive  letters  and  essays, 
later  published  in  book  form. 

His  best  work  belongs  to  middle  life.  After  some 
years,  his  son-in-law,  Parke  Godwin,  and  his  inti- 
mate friend,  Hon.  John  Bigelow  — "  The  Old  Man 
Eloquent " —  were  associated  with  him  on  "  The 
Post/'  each  being  his  affectionate  and  scholarly  bio- 
grapher. 

105 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

In  regard  to  his  friendships,  it  is  a  rare  delight 
to  listen  to  the  reminiscences  of  General  Wilson  - 
himself  a  man  of  great  literary  charm  —  who 
enjoyed  more  or  less  intimacy  with  many  of  the 
"  Old  Guard  "  of  American  authors,  and  also  the 
eminent  and  gifted  in  other  lands.  Among  his  rec- 
ollections of  Bryant  is  a  story  which  the  latter  told 
him  of  his  first  coming  to  New  York.  Shortly  after 
his  arrival,  he  met  Cooper,  to  whom  he  had  been 
previously  introduced;  and  Cooper  invited  him  to 
dinner  to  meet  Halleck  adding,  "  I  live  at  345 
Greenwich  Street."  "  Please  put  that  down,"  said 
Bryant,  "  or  I  shall  forget  the  place."  "  Can't  you 
remember  l  3 — 4 — 5  ' !  "  Cooper  replied  bluntly. 
Bryant  did  remember  and  for  all  the  future,  and  the 
friendship  made  that  day  with  Cooper  and  Halleck 
was  severed  only  by  death.  To  Halleck  he  was  al- 
ways devoted. 

Among  his  other  friends  were  Irving,  Dana, 
Drake,  Verplanck,  and  Willis.  He  had  pleasure  in 
Whitman  but  could  not  understand  his  poetry. 
Wordsworth  was  his  English  inspiration  and  Rogers's 
"  breakfasts  "  his  special  delight. 

Hawthorne  thus  describes  Bryant's  appear- 
ance when  he  met  him  in  Rome :  "  He  presented 
himself  with  a  long  white  beard  such  as  a  palmer 
might  have  worn  on  the  growth  of  a  long  pil- 
grimage." In  all  his  friendships,  there  was  a  kind 
of  Puritan  veneer  that  never  wore  off;  a  quiet 

106 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

reserve  and  dignity  seemed  always  to  belong  to 
him. 

Bryant  had  several  homes  in  New  York  —  the 
last  at  Twenty-four  West  Sixteenth  Street,  where  he 
lived  for  twenty-four  years  —  but  a  ruralist  at  heart, 
country  life  attracted  him  most.  He  bought  the  old 
homestead  at  Cummington,  among  the  hills  that  he 
loved,  and  he  returned  to  it  year  by  year;  and  in  order 
to  be  nearer  New  York  City,  he  purchased,  in  1843, 
an  estate  at  Roslyn,  Long  Island,  and  for  thirty-five 
years,  "  Cedarmere  "  was  his  home. 

The  house  stands  in  charming  grounds,  overlook- 
ing a  lovely  lake:  the  library  with  two  bay-windows, 
affording  a  view  of  woods  and  water  —  with  ample 
bookcases,  and  fireplace  set  round  with  old  Dutch 
tiles.  This  room  was  Bryant's  castle!  No  journal- 
ist work  was  allowed  to  enter,  for  it  was  here  that 
he  donned  his  singing-robes. 

After  his  death,  the  homestead  remained  in  the 
family,  and  several  years  ago,  it  was  nearly  destroyed 
by  fire;  but  appreciative  hands  restored  what  was  left 
of  his  household  goods,  and  they  are  to-day  in  the 
present  mansion. 

It  was  at  "  Cedarmere/'  after  the  death  of  his 
wife,  in  1865,  and  when  he  was  over  seventy,  that 
Bryant  made  his  monumental  translation  of  "The 
Iliad"  and  "  The  Odyssey";  and  he  did  this  in  a 
Homeric  spirit  for  he  seemed  to  understand  blank 
verse  and  "  the  rush  of  Epic  song."  He  shows, 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

also,  true  fidelity  to  the  text,  and  many  rank  this  the 
best  metrical  version  of  Homer  in  the  language; 
and  like  Pope,  he  made  it  on  the  back  of  old  papers 
and  letters. 

And  now  to  return  to  the  creative  works  of  our 
"  out-of-door  lover."  He  was  reticent  in  verse,  for 
although  he  lived  to  a  good  old  age,  all  his  poems 
are  contained  in  one  volume  —  but  the  finest  belong 
to  his  younger  days.  All  are  short  —  for  to  him  a 
long  poem  was  as  impossible  as  a  continued  ecstasy. 

He  revelled  in  solitude,  and  said  that  when  he 
entered  the  forest,  power  seemed  to  come  unbidden. 
His  "  Fdrest  Hymn,"  was  breathed  in  the  depths  of 
the  shady  wood,  amid  the  brotherhood  of  venerable 
trees  —  and  while  we  "  meditate  in  these  calm 
shades,"  we  think  only  of  his  minor  key;  yet  again 
his  "  Robert  of  Lincoln  "  is 

"  Merrily  swinging  on  briar  and  weed," 

singing 

"  Bob-o'-link,  bob-o'-link, 
Spink,  spank,  spink." 

Sometimes  Bryant  voices  the  spirit  of  freedom; 
his  note  is  decided  but  more  restrained  than  Whit- 
tier's.  We  find  it  in  his  "  Song  of  Marion's  Men  "; 
and  in  her  hour  of  need,  he  sounds  forth  "  Our 
Country's  Call " ;  and  from  him  comes  the  famous 
quatrain  of  "The  Battle-Field  " :  — 

108 


Herbert  Adams.  Sc. 

WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT  MEMORIAL  IN  BRYANT  PARK, 
NEW  YORK  CITY 


WILLIAM   CULLEN   BRYANT 

"  Truth,  crushed  to  earth,  shall  rise  again, — 

The  eternal  years  of  God  are  hers; 
But  Error,  wounded,  writhes  in  pain, 
And  dies  among  her  worshippers." 

Then  there  is  the  bloom  of  summer  in  his  verse; 
again 

"  The  melancholy  days  have  come,  the  saddest  of  the  year  "; 

and  yet  again,  the  frosts  of  winter,  with  his  unusual 
"  Little  People  of  the  Snow  " :  — 

"  A  joyous  multitude, 

Whirled  in  a  merry  dance  jto  silvery  sounds, 
That  rang  from  cymbals  of  transparent  ice, 
And  ice-cups,  quivering  to  the  skilful  touch 
Of  little  fingers." 

Some  have  called  Bryant  "  The  American  Words- 
worth."    He,  too,  dwelt  by  a  lake  —  and  he  caught 
a  Wordsworthian  inspiration.     But  Bryant  appeals 
more  to  the  intellect,  while  Wordsworth  dwells  in  the*\ 
heart  of  man. 

Bryant,  with  his  deep-set  eye,  patriarchal  beard 
—  diminutive,  erect  and  buoyant  —  was  a  striking 
personality  in  Broadway  —  going  to  and  from  the 
office  of  "  The  Post."  He  was  for  many  years  the 
honoured  President  of  "  The  Century  Club,"  and  so 
its  representative  citizen,  presenting  to  it  many  illus- 
trious visitors  from  abroad.  He  was  keenly  inter- 
ested in  civic  affairs  and  often  presided  as  orator  on 

109 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

commemorative  occasions,  as  on  the  death  of  Cooper, 
Halleck,  and  Irving. 

He  gained  wealth  as  others  may  gain  it  by  the 
thrift  inculcated  in  "  Poor  Richard's  Almanac." 
On  his  eightieth  birthday,  thousands  of  congratula- 
tory letters  came  to  him  from  all  over  the  land,  and 
a  loving-cup  was  presented  him  which  may  now  be 
seen  in  the  Metropolitan  Museum. 

For  this  Nestor  of  counsel  —  this  patriotic 
journalist  and  poet  —  serene  and  philosophic  — 
worked  on,  u  Without  haste,  without  rest,"  giving 
quietly  and  strongly  of  his  best  to  the  world;  and 
yet  this  singer  of  "  an  unfaltering  trust "  seemed 
constantly  in  his  life  to  exemplify  those  lines  from  his 
"  Waiting  by  the  Gate":  — 

"  And  in  the  sunshine  streaming  on  quiet  wood  and  lea, 
I  stand  and  calmly  wait  till  the  hinges  turn  for  me." 

Bryant  expressed  grateful  appreciation  for  the 
artistic  impulse  which  the  Italians  had  given  to  New 
York,  in  presenting  so  many  statues  of  their  re- 
nowned men ;  and  he  had  profound  sympathy  for  the 
life  and  work  of  the  Revolutionist  and  statesman, 
Mazzini;  —  he  who  has  been  called  "  the  brain," 
in  connection  with  Garibaldi,  "  the  sword,"  Cavour, 
"  the  genius,"  and  Victor  Emmanuel,  "  the  banner  " 
-  of  "  Italy  free  "  ! 

Mazzini's  bust  was  to  be  unveiled  in  Central  Park 
and  Bryant  was  invited  to  give  the  oration.  It  was 

no 


WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT 

a  warm  June  day,  and  he  stood  with  bared  head. 
The  address  was  scholarly  and  looking  up  into  Maz- 
zini's  face,  he  closed  with  these  words :  — 

"  Image  of  the  illustrious  champion  of  civil  and  religious 
liberty,  cast  in  enduring  bronze  to  typify  the  imperishable 
renown  of  the  original !  Remain  for  ages  yet  to  come  where 
we  place  thee,  in  this  resort  of  millions;  remain  till  the  day 
shall  dawn  .  .  .  when  the  rights  and  duties  of  human 
brotherhood  shall  be  acknowledged  by  all  the  races  of  man- 
kind!" 

These  were  the  last  public  words  he  was  to  speak; 
for  at  the  close  of  the  ceremonies,  he  was  stricken  by 
the  heat  of  the  sun  and  died,  just  a  few  days  later, 
on  the  twelfth  of  June,  1878.  The  simple  funeral 
took  place  at  Roslyn,  and  village  children  dropped 
flowers  into  the  grave. 

In  1883,  "  The  Century  Company,"  influenced  by 
Hon.  John  Bigelow,  appointed  a  committee  to  per- 
petuate the  name  of  '  The  Father  of  American 
Poetry,"  and  two  honours  have  been  accorded  him. 
The  first  of  these  was  when  "  Reservoir  Square  "  be- 
came "  Bryant  Park";  then  after  the  completion  of 
the  New  York  Public  Library,  there  was  placed  on 
the  esplanade,  at  the  back  of  the  palatial  building,  a 
statue  of  Bryant  made  by  the  sculptor,  Herbert 
Adams. 

Like  that  of  Mazzini,  it  is  cast  in  enduring  bronze. 
The  hand  holds  a  manuscript,  suggestive  of  literary 
work.  The  poet  gazes  over  his  Park  towards  Irv- 

III 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

ing,  who,  at  the  other  end,  is  taking  a  view  of  his 
modern  Knickerbocker  city.  The  statue  was  un- 
veiled by  Miss  Frances  Bryant  Godwin,  a  great- 
granddaughter  of  the  poet.  Mr.  Bigclow  was  not 
able  to  be  present ;  and  it  was  most  fitting  that  in  his 
stead  our  optimistic  philosopher  and  Nature-inter- 
preter, Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke,  should  deliver 
the  address. 

The  base  bears  the  following  selection  from  one  of 
Bryant's  later  poems  —  and  how  truly  it  characterises 

his  stateliness  of  expression :  — 

< 

"  Yet  let  no  empty  gust 
Of  passionate  feeling  find  utterance  in  thy  lay, 

A  blast  that  whirls  the  dust 
Along  the  howling  street  and  dies  away: 
Best  feelings  of  calm  and  mighty  sweep 
Like  currents  journeying  through  the  windless  deep." 

TO  THE  FRINGED  GENTIAN 

"  Thou  blossom,  bright  with  autumn  dew, 
And  coloured  with  the  heaven's  own  blue, 
That  openest  when  the  quiet  light 
Succeeds  the  keen  and  frosty  night; 

Thou  comest  not  when  violets  lean 
O'er  wandering  brooks  and  springs  unseen, 
Or  columbines,  in  purple  dressed, 
Nod  o'er  the  ground-bird's  hidden  nest. 

Thou  waitest  late,  and  com'st  alone, 
When  woods  are  bare  and  birds  are  flown, 

112 


WILLIAM    CULLEN   BRYANT 

And  frosts  and  shortening  days  portend 
The  aged  year  is  near  his  end. 

Then  doth  thy  sweet  and  quiet  eye 
Look  through  its  fringes  to  the  sky, 
Blue  —  blue  —  as  if  that  sky  let  fall 
A  flower  from  its  cerulean  wall. 

I  would  that  thus,  when  I  shall  see 
The  hour  of  death  draw  near  to  me, 
Hope,  blossoming  within  my  heart, 
May  look  to  heaven  as  I  depart." 

—  Bryant. 

TO  A  WATERFOWL 

"Whither  midst  falling  dew, 
While  glow  the  heavens  with  the  last  steps  bf  day, 
Far,  through  their  rosy  depths,  dost  thou  pursue 
Thy  solitary  way? 

There  is  a  Power  whose  care 
Teaches  thy  way  along  that  pathless  coast, — 
The  desert  and  illimitable  air, — 

Lone  wandering,  but  not  lost. 

Thou'rt  gone!  the  abyss  of  heaven 
Hath  swallowed  up  thy  form;  yet,  on  my  heart 
Deeply  hath  sunk  the  lesson  thou  hast  given, 

And  shall  not  soon  depart: 

He,  who,  from  zone  to  zone, 
Guides  through  the  boundless  sky  thy  certain  flight, 
In  the  lone  way  that  I  must  tread  alone, 

Will  lead  my  steps  aright."  — Bryant. 


XV 

SPASMODIC  POEMS  AND  SONGS 

SOME  of  our  earlier  writers  live  to-day  in  one  or 
two  poems  or  songs,  and  in  the  following  chapter  we 
have  strung  together  just  a  few  of  these  inspiring 
verses. 

The  first  we  seek  in  the  "  Knickerbocker  Group," 
that  fashionable  coterie  of  young  men,  who,  with 
Irving  as  their  centre,  were  all  aspirants  for  literary 
fame.  Among  them  were  Paulding,  Willis,  Dana, 
Drake  and  Halleck,  and  it  is  from  Drake  and  Hal- 
leek  that  we  gather  our  memorials.  Their  first  meet- 
ing was  on  this  wise:  They  were  standing  on  the 
Battery,  New  York,  admiring  a  rainbow  that 
spanned  the  heavens,  and  a  mutual  friend  introduced 
them. 

Halleck,  who  was  a  great  admirer  of  Campbell  re- 
marked: "  It  would  be  heaven  to  ride  on  that  rain- 
bow and  read  Campbell."  Drake  liked  the  words, 
clasped  his  hand,  and  a  "  David  and  Jonathan " 
friendship  was  formed  only  to  be  severed  by  Drake's 
early  death. 

They  called  themselves  "  Croakers,"  and  their 
"  croaks "  gave  a  pleasant  picture  of  New  York 
society  in  the  first  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  — 

114 


SPASMODIC   POEMS   AND   SONGS 

for    they    literally    found    "  fun    in     everything." 
"  Croaker  and  Co."  wrote  "  The  American  Flag  "- 
Drake  all  but  the  last  four  lines. 

Drake's  reputation,  however,  rests  on  his  "  Cul- 
prit Fay,"  which  grew  out  of  a  discussion  with 
Cooper  and  Halleck  —  they  insisting  that  a  fairy 
touch  could  not  be  given  to  our  American  rivers.  In 
three  days  Drake  proved  his  point  by  his  exquisite 
poem  —  its  scene  laid  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
the  legendary  abode  of  "  Rip  Van  Winkle." 

In  this  a  fay  has  committed  the  crime  of  falling 
in  love  with  a  mortal,  and  part  of  his  punishment  is 
to  light  his  lamp  by  the  first  spark  of  a  shooting-star; 
and  Drake's  theme  is  saturated  with  fairy  lore  as 
we  may  feel  in  reading  these  lines :  — 

"  The  winds  are  whist,  and  the  owl  is  still  ; 

The  bat  in  the  shelvy  rock  is  hid ; 
And  naught  is  heard  on  the  lonely  hill 
But  the  cricket's  chirp,  and  the  answer  shrill 

Of  the  gauze-winged  katydid; 
And  the  plaint  of  the  wailing  whip-poor-will, 

Who  moans  unseen,  and  ceaseless  sings, 
Ever  a  note  of  wail  and  woe, 

Till  morning  spreads  her  rosy  wings, 
And  earth  and  sky  in  her  glances  glow." 

Youthful,  brilliant  Drake  —  our  "  American 
Keats  " —  was  a  born  lyrist.  He  died  at  twenty-five 
and  Halleck  wrote  in  his  memory :  — 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  Green  be  the  turf  above  thee, 
Friend  of  my  better  days! 
None  knew  thee  but  to  love  thee, 
None  named  thee  but  to  praise." 

And  Halleck  lived  on.  He,  too,  had  a  spark  of 
genius  yet  he  sang  very  little  —  but  edited  books  of 
other  authors.  He  was  a  great  favourite,  and  came 
so  prominently  in  touch  with  other  literary  men,  find- 
ing such  an  affectionate  biographer  in  General  Wilson 
—  that  we  are  all  familiar  with  his  name.  He  was 
long  an  accountant  for  John  Jacob  Astor  in  New 
York,  and  on  his  death,  the  multi-millionaire  left  him 
a  small  estate;  and  so  "  passing  rich  on  forty  pounds 
a  year,"  he  returned  to  his  old  home,  Guilford,  Con- 
necticut, where  he  cultivated  his  exquisite  love  for 
Nature. 

On  the  eightieth  anniversary  of  his  birth,  in  1877, 
his  friends  unveiled  to  him  a  bronze  statue  in  Central 
Park,  New  York  —  the  first  one  there  dedicated  to 
an  American  poet;  and  on  this  occasion  Whittier 
paid  to  his  friend  this  just  encomium:  — 

"In  common  ways  with  common  men, 

He  served  his  race  and  time, 
As  well  as  if  his  clerkly  pen 
Had  never  danced  to  rhyme." 

Halleck's  chief  title  to  poetic  fame  rests  on 
"  Marco  Bozzaris."  Its  subject  is  a  Greek  leader 

116 


SPASMODIC   POEMS   AND   SONGS 

who  fell,  in  1823,  in  the  war  against  Turkey  for 
Greek  independence.  Americans  at  that  time  were 
interested  not  only  in  the  struggle  of  brave  little 
Greece,  but  in  our  own  recently  achieved  liberty;  and 
how  many  boys  from  that  day  to  this  have  emphasised 
the  words :  — 

"  Strike  —  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires; 
Strike  —  for  your  altars  and  your  fires  ; 
Strike  —  for  the  green  graves  of  our  sires ; 
God  —  and  your  native  land !  " 

Certainly  Drake's  ode  "  The  American  Flag " 
and  his  "Culprit  Fay"  and  Halleck's  "Marco 
Bozzaris  "  are  three  of  the  immortal  poems  "  that 
were  not  born  to  die !  " 

And  our  flag  has  been  the  theme  of  yet  nobler 
song;  and  the  dilapidated  "Key  Mansion  "  is  still 
preserved  in  Georgetown,  D.  C.,  as  the  home  of  the 
author  of  our  "  Star-Spangled  Banner."  It  was  in 
1814,  during  the  British  bombardment  of  Fort  Mc- 
Henry  that  Francis  Scott  Key  started  out  one  morn- 
ing to  attempt  to  secure  the  release  of  a  friend,  im- 
prisoned on  one  of  the  British  ships.  A  truce  boat 
was  placed  at  his  disposal,  and  on  his  arrival  at  the 
scene  of  war,  Admiral  Cockburn  promised  that  a  few 
hours  later  his  friend  should  be  free,  but  that  in  the 
meantime,  he,  too,  must  be  detained;  for  the  Admiral 
was  just  then  preparing  to  attack  the  fort  and  could 
not  allow  its  defenders  to  be  warned. 

117 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  strain  upon  Key  and  his  friend  was  tremen- 
dous—  the  fort  being  subjected  to  attack  by  both 
land  and  water  —  and  Baltimore  was  surely  doomed ! 
All  night  long  they  paced  the  deck,  mid  "  the  rocket's 
red  glare  "  and  "  bombs  bursting  in  air."  What 
was  their  thrill  of  joy,  "  by  the  dawn's  early  light," 
in  looking  towards  the  fort  to  discover  "  that  our 
flag  was  still  there  " ! 

And  Key  took  from  his  pocket  a  bit  of  paper  and 
then  and  there  wrote  the  first  stanza  of  "  The  Star- 
Spangled  Banner."  The  writer  soon  withdrew  and 
it  did  not  take  long  to  complete  the  poem.  It  was  set 
to  an  old  English  drinking-song,  "  Anacreon  in 
Heaven  " ;  it  was  struck  off  in  handbills,  caught  up 
from  camp  to  camp,  and  became  a  precious  memento 
to  the  soldier  of  the  War  of  1812. 

And  does  it  still  live?  Listen  every  afternoon  at 
sunset  when  the  United  States  flag  is  lowered,  from 
fort  or  flagship,  and  you  shall  hear  its  strains,  sym- 
bolic always  of  "  the  land  of  the  free,  and  the  home 
of  the  brave  " !  If  you  would  see  Francis  Scott 
Key's  best  monument,  visit  his  tomb  at  Frederick, 
Maryland,  for  the  lay  ordains  that  for  ever  over  it 
"  the  star-spangled  banner  in  triumph  doth  wave." 

On  the  hill  not  far  from  the  "  Key  Mansion  "  is 
Oak  Knoll  Cemetery,  the  resting-place  of  John  How- 
ard Payne,  the  author  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home." 
He  was  a  successful  actor  and  playwright,  courted 
by  Irving  and  other  literary  men  for  his  intellectual 

118 


SPASMODIC   POEMS   AND   SONGS 

gifts;  and  his  finest  tragedy  "Brutus,"  Keene  and 
Forest  and  Booth  have  all  tried  to  immortalise;  but 
his  more  studied  works  are  now  comparatively  for- 
gotten, while  just  one  lovely  lyric  enshrines  him  in 
the  popular  heart. 

Payne  was  born  in  New  York  City,  but  it  was  his 
childhood's  home  at  picturesque  East  Hampton, 
Long  Island,  that  gives  origin  to  the  poem.  It  was 
written  abroad  for  his  opera  "  Clari,  the  Maid  of 
Milan  " ;  Henry  Rowley  Bishop  added  the  music, 
and  it  was  sung  first,  in  1823,  at  the  Covent  Garden 
Theatre,  London.  The  words  and  music  taken  to- 
gether make  the  appeal  in  this  homesick  poem. 

About  the  time  that  Payne  wrote  the  words  his 
friends  in  America  were  receiving  letters  from  him 
expressing  his  longing  for  home.  He  once  said:  — 

"  The  world  has  literally  sung  my  song  until  every  neart 
is  familiar  with  its  melody,  and  yet  I  have  been  a  wanderer 
since  my  boyhood." 

Far  from  country  and  friends,  he  was  finally  con- 
sul in  Tunis,  where  he  died  in  1852.  Years  later, 
the  Hon.  William  W.  Corcoran,  the  Washington 
philanthropist,  who,  as  a  boy,  had  seen  Payne  act,  de- 
termined to  have  his  remains  brought  from  Africa 
and  interred  in  his  home-land.  They  were  met  in 
Washington  by  a  military  escort,  and  accompanied 
by  the  President  and  his  staff  to  the  cemetery  to  the 
music  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home.n 

119 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Another  song  appeared,  in  1832,  that  gained  re- 
nown for  its  writer,  Dr.  Smith,  a  Baptist  clergyman. 
This  is  "  My  Country,  'tis  of  thee."  It  was  used 
for  the  first  time  in  Boston,  at  a  children's  "  Fourth 
of  July  "  festival.  Dr.  Smith  was  a  classmate  at 
Harvard  of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  and  our  remi- 
niscent poet  at  a  class  re-union  thus  summarises  his 
friend's  title  to  fame :  — 

"  And  there's  a  nice  youngster  of  excellent  pith, 
Yale  tried  to  conceal  him  by  naming  him  Smith; 
But  he  chanted  a  song  for  the  brave  and  the  free, 
Just  read  on  his  medal  — '  My  Country  of  thee ! ' ' 

And  there  is  another  song  which  set  to  a  German 
melody  has  been  sung  —  with  its  passion  and  pathos 
—  all  over  the  English-speaking  world.  Who  does 
not  know  "  Ben  Bolt  "?  It  was  written  in  1843,  by 
Thomas  Dunn  English,  a  physician  of  Fort  Lee, 
New  Jersey. 

N.  P.  Willis,  editor  of  "  The  New  York  Mirror," 
a  paper  run  on  a  very  small  capital,  had  asked  Dr. 
English  to  contribute  a  sea-poem,  and  he  sat  down 
to  write;  but  he  drifted  away  from  sea-thoughts  into 
memories  of  his  boyhood:  "  Sweet  Alice  "  and  "  the 
old  mill,"  "the  log-cabin"  and  "  the  school"  in- 
truded themselves  into  the  poem  —  and  he  was  near- 
ing  the  end  when  he  remembered  Willis's  request. 
So  to  fulfil  his  promise,  in  the  very  last  line  he 
apostrophises:  "  Ben  Bolt  of  the  salt-sea  gale!  " 

Dr.  English  never  made  a  penny  out  of  the  famous 
120 


SPASMODIC   POEMS   AND   SONGS 

poem,  and  he  sometimes  almost  resented  its  wide 
popularity  as  compared  with  that  awarded  to  his 
more  carefully  prepared  works. 

And  just  one  Southern  folk-song  we  must  add  to 
our  list.  This  is  "  Dixie,"  composed  by  Daniel  De- 
catur  Emmett,  or  "  Dan  "  Emmett,  as  he  is  usually 
called.  A  poor  boy,  he  picked  up  enough  education 
to  be  compositor  in  a  printing-office;  then  he  joined 
the  army  as  a  fifer,  and  later  the  circus,  and  in  1843, 
he  organised  in  New  York  the  "  Virginia  Minstrels," 
minstrelsy  being  at  that  time  a  novel  form  of  enter- 
tainment, and  Dan  used  to  declare  that  when  he 
blackened  his  face  and  donned  his  kinky  white  wig, 
he  made  the  best  old  negro  that  ever  lived. 

Later  as  a  member  of  the  "  Bryant  Troupe,"  he 
was  stage  performer  and  wrote  songs.  He  was 
specially  successful  in  "  walk-arounds  " —  a  "  walk- 
around  "  being  a  genuine  bit  of  plantation  life  that 
always  ends  a  show.  On  a  September  day,  in  1859, 
Bryant  told  Emmett  that  a  new  "  walk-around  "  was 
needed,  and  that  he  would  give  him  two  days  in 
which  to  write  it.  That  night  he  tried  with  his 
fiddle  —  but  neither  words  nor  tune  would  come! 
His  wife  encouraged  him,  promising  to  be  his  audi- 
ence the  moment  it  was  finished. 

The  next  day  was  bleak  and  dismal  in  New  York. 
Emmett  recalled  his  life  as  a  circus  performer,  and 
how  he  enjoyed  travelling  over  the  "  Sunny  South  "; 
and  how  when  they  were  at  the  North,  the  members 

121 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

of  the  troupe  would  often  say,  "  I  wish  I  was  in 
Dixie  1  "  Then  burst  a  sudden  idea  —  this  was  the 
line  for  him !  He  took  his  fiddle,  and  very  soon 
words  and  tune  had  sung  themselves  into  a  jovial 
plantation  melody. 

The  next  evening  "  Away  down  South  in  Dixie !  " 
was  received  with  great  applause,  and  its  author 
was  paid  for  it  five  hundred  dollars.  Soon  it  was 
heard  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the  other,  and  in 
1 86 1,  it  was  flashed  over  the  whole  South  as  the  Civil 
War  lyric  that  led  the  soldiers  to  battle. 

On  the  outskirts  of  Mount  Vernon,  Ohio,  old  Dan 
Emmett  spent  the  last  days  of  his  life.  In  a  tiny 
house,  with  a  little  garden-patch,  he  earned  his  living 
principally  by  raising  chickens.  A  kindly  old  man, 
he  often  might  be  seen  sitting  in  the  sun,  reading  his 
Bible.  After  his  death,  several  interesting  manu- 
scripts were  found:  —  one  entitled  "  Emmett's 
Standard  Drummer  " ;  another  a  grace,  in  which  he 
thanks  the  Lord  "  for  this  frugal  meal  and  all  other 
meals  Thou  hast  permitted  me  to  enjoy  during  my 
past  existence." 

It  has  been  said  that  when  eighty  years  of  age,  he 
"  had  a  taste  of  what  it  is  to  be  famous,"  and  many 
an  ovation  was  tendered  him  at  the  South.  So  it  is 
hoped  that  this  contented  old  minstrel  was  always 
happy  in  the  thought  that  over  the  wide  earth, 
tribute  was  constantly  paid  to  his  "  walk-around  "  war- 
song  — u  Dixie." 

122 


SPASMODIC   POEMS   AND   SONGS 

We  have  wandered  far  afield  —  even  from  fairy- 
land to  folk-song  —  and  our  excuse  for  linking  the 
genius  of  a  Drake  and  Halleck  with  patriotic  airs  and 
the  song  of  Dan  Emmett  is,  that  all  have  presented 
to  our  literature  some  of  its  single,  striking  inspira- 
tions. 


123 


XVI 

JOHN  GREENLEAF  WHITTIER   (1807-1892) 

WHITTIER-LAND  nestles  in  the  valley  of  the  Merri- 
mac,  from  the  granite  hills,  to  where  "  the  lower 
river  "  seeks  the  ocean  at  Newburyport;  and  on  "  its 
broad,  smooth  current,"  Haverhill 

"  overlooks  on  either  hand 
A  rich  and  many  watered  land." 

Three  miles  beyond  this  hill-city,  a  little  back 
from  the  highway,  stands  the  primitive  Whittier 
homestead,  hardly  altered  from  the  olden  day.  In 
it  is  shown  the  room  where,  on  December  seven- 
teenth, 1807,  the  "  Quaker- Poet "  first  saw  the  light. 
The  mother's  bedroom  remains  with  linen  and 
blankets  woven  by  her  own  hand. 

The  great  fireplace  in  the  kitchen  is  almost  as 
large  as  a  modern  kitchenette.  In  this  swings  u  the 
crane  and  pendent  trammels,"  and  never  has  New 
England  kitchen  been  so  hallowed  by  poetic  touch. 
For  it  was  in  this  "  old,  rude-furnished  room," 
many  years  after  Whittier  had  left  his  early  home, 
that  he  stretched  "  The  hands  of  memory  forth  " 
and  gathered  the  household;  and  as  the  firelight 
illumined  their  faces,  he  threw  upon  the  screen  the 

124 


JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

picture  of  the  family  group,  and  this  he  presented  to 
the  world  in  "  Snow-Bound,'*  a  perfect  poem  of  New 
England  winter  life. 

Let  us  glance  at  the  picture.  Here  is  the  father, 
"Prompt,  decisive  man";  the  mother  rehearsing 

"  The  story  of  her  early  days ;" 
Aunt  Mercy  — 

"The  sweetest  woman  ever  Fate 
Perverse  denied  a  household  mate  " ; 

and  story-telling  Uncle  Moses,  who  though 

".     .     .     innocent  of  books, 
Was  rich  in  lore  of  field  and  brooks." 

And  among  the  other  faces  is  that  of  the  older  sister 
who  has  learned  u  The  secret  of  self-sacrifice  " ;  and 
of  the  "  youngest "  and  "  dearest,"  who 

".     .     .     let  her  heart 

Against  the  household  bosom  lean." 

The  picture  is  as  realistic  in  word  as  the  Dutch  artist 
could  have  painted  it  with  his  brush  —  and  it  has 
transformed  the  Haverhill  kitchen  into  a  pilgrim's 
shrine. 

Lingering  outside  the  homestead,  many  poems  are 
recalled.  Here  was  laid  the  scene  of  u  Telling  the 
Bees  ";  the  bridle-post;  the  well  with  its  long  sweep; 

125 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

the  brook;  the  stone-wall  upon  which  once  sat  a 
"Barefoot  boy,  with  cheek  of  tan!"  Near  by  is 
the  meadow  where  Maud  Muller  met  the  judge;  a 
short  distance  up  a  narrow  road  stands  the  cottage 
where  Lydia  Ayer,  the  heroine  of  "  In  School-days," 
lived  her  brief  life  of  seventeen  years.  Here  are 
treasured  her  school-books,  and  each  is  inscribed  in 
tiny,  faded  writing:  "  Lydia  Ayer  —  her  book." 

Across,  the  road,  beyond  the  Whittier  elm,  a  tablet 
marks  the  site  of  "  the  school-house  by  the  road," 
and 

"  Around  it  still  the  sumachs  grow, 
And  blackberry-vines  are  running." 

Local  tradition  has  it  that  John  and  Lydia  always 
walked  to  school  together;  and  we  do  know  that 
forty  years  later,  John  tenderly  remembered  the 
"  sweet  child-face  "  of  the  little  maiden  who  hated 
"  to  go  above  "  him. 

The  literary  elements  associated  with  Whittier's 
childhood  home,  apart  from  the  district-school,  were 
very  few.  There  were  the  Bible  and  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  and  some  other  saintly  books,  and  the 
Quaker-meeting.  But  something  interesting  hap- 
pened when  the  lad  was  fourteen  —  the  kind  of 
thing  that  often  happens  to  a  youthful  genius  and 
changes  the  whole  current  of  life  —  a  copy  of  Burns's 
poems  fell  into  his  hands.  He  read  and  re-read  un- 

126 


JOHN   GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

til  the  "  Ayrshire  Ploughman,"  who  could  weave  a 
poem  from  a  "  tiny  field  mousie,"  or  a  "  Wee  modest 
crimson-tipped  flower,"  had  cast,  by  the  magic  of  his 
lyric  song,  a  spell  over  the  rugged  farmer  lad  — 
for  he  even  sung  into  his  heart  the  art  of  transfigur- 
ing daily  life. 

And  as  the  boy  worked  on,  and  carried  his  lessons 
and  scribbled  away,  a  new  spirit  was  in  him  —  and 
his  own  song  burst  forth  —  and  the  early  twitter  was 
pleasant  to  hear  on  the  dreary  New  England  coast; 
and  the  song  grew  louder  and  more  insistent,  for  he 
kept  on  singing  for  sixty  years,  and  sometimes  he 
has  even  been  honoured  by  being  called  "The  Burns 
of  New  England." 

And  when  he  was  seventeen,  another  thing  hap- 
pened. One  day  when  he  was  helping  his  father 
mend  the  fence,  the  postman  as  he  rode  past  tossed 
over  the  newspaper.  Whittier  opened  it  and  dis- 
covered one  of  his  own  poems  in  print.  He  stared 
again  and  again  at  the  lines,  but  for  joy  and  surprise 
could  not  read  a  word.  The  practical  father,  seeing 
him  idle,  told  him  to  put  up  the  paper  and  go  on  with 
his  work. 

His  sister,  it  appears,  had  been  his  first  literary 
agent,  and  unknown  to  him,  had  sent  the  manuscript 
to  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  editor  of  "  The  New- 
buryport  Free  Press."  We  linger  over  these  hap- 
penings because  they  were  big  with  import. 

A  little  later,  Mr.  Garrison,  having  received  more 
127 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

of  the  youthful  poet's  rhymes,  visited  the  farm  and 
urged  Mr.  Whittier  to  give  his  son  an  education; 
but  all  he  could  do  was  to  allow  him  a  few  terms 
at  the  Haverhill  Academy,  and  the  youth  had  to  teach 
and  keep  accounts,  and  make  slippers  for  eight  cents 
a  pair,  to  pay  his  tuition. 

Mr.  Garrison,  "  The  Lion-hearted  Champion  of 
Freedom,"  next  interested  his  young  friend  in  the 
anti-slavery  question  that  for  many  years  before  the 
Civil  War  agitated  the  country;  and  the  poet  of 
"  brotherly  love "  was  born  with  such  a  spirit  of 
14  brotherly  rights  "  that  he  threw  himself,  heart  and 
soul,  into  the  conflict. 

It  was  in  1833,  tnat  ne  openly  consecrated  himself 
to  the  cause  to  which  he  gave  the  best  years  of  his 
life.  In  these  times  of  turmoil,  he  drifted  into 
journalism  in  Boston,  Hartford,  Philadelphia,  and 
Washington.  He  became  secretary  and  journalist 
for  the  "Anti-Slavery  Society,"  in  Philadelphia. 
His  office  was  sacked  and  burned,  and  here  and  in 
other  cities,  he  was  several  times  hounded  and 
mobbed. 

It  mattered  not  to  him !  His  "  Voices  of  Free- 
dom "  rang  out  like  trumpet-calls !  His  finest  de- 
nunciation was  "  Ichabod."  This  was  an  impress- 
ive lament  over  the  fallen  greatness  of  Daniel  Web- 
ster, for  his  attempted  compromise  with  the  South, 
in  regard  to  slavery.  But  thirty  years  afterwards, 
Whittier  may  have  repented  his  impetuous  words; 

128 


JOHN    GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

for  in  his  "  Lost  Occasion/'  he  represents  Webster 
as  trying  to  save  the  Union  without  a  struggle,  and 
he  mourns  the  too  early  death  of  one 

"  Whom  the  rich  heavens  did  so  endow 
With  eyes  of  power  and  Jove's  own  brow." 

Lowell,  who  was  with  Whittier  in  sentiment,  could 
not  refrain  from  referring  to  him  in  his  "  Fable  for 
Critics"  as 

"  Preaching  brotherly  love  and  then  driving  it  in 
To  the  brain  of  the  rough  old  Goliath  of  sin." 

But  Lowell  said,  also,  another  thing  of  Whittier  that 

"  Whenever  occasion  offered,  some  burning  lyric  of  his 
flew  across  the  country  like  the  fiery  cross  to  warn  and 
rally!" 

Whittier,  however,  lost  friends  and  literary  in- 
fluence through  his  "  Voices  of  Freedom  ";  and  yet 
he  said:  — 


"I  set  a  higher  value  on  my  name  as  appended  to  the 
Anti-Slavery  Declaration  of  1833  than  on  the  title-page  of 
my  works." 

And  the  martial  Quaker  worked  on  with  lyre  and 
pen  until  that  day  when   in  the  meeting-house  he 

129 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

heard  the  glad  bells  ring  out  the  news  of  the  passage 
of  the  Constitutional  Amendment,  abolishing  slavery, 
and  he  sat  right  down  and  wrote  his  "  Laus  Deo  1  " 
beginning :  — 

"It  is  done! 

Clang  of  bell  and  roar  of  gun 
Send  the  tidings  up  and  down. 

How  the  belfries  rock  and  reel! 

How  the  great  guns,  peal  on  peal, 
Fling  the  joy  from  town  to  town !  " 

And  now  freedom  achieved,  the  blast  of  the  war- 
trumpeter  changed  into  a  calm,  sweet  song,  and  by 
degrees  it  broadened  into  fuller,  richer  tones. 

After  his  father's  death,  Whittier  sold  the  ances- 
tral farm  at  Haverhill,  and  bought  a  house  for  his 
mother  and  sister  at  Amesbury,  where  they  might 
be  near  the  meeting-house.  Though  Whittier  never 
married,  he  loved  his  fireside,  and  was  never  further 
from  it  than  Washington.  Once  perhaps  he  might 
have  been  elected  to  Congress  but  in  his  diffidence, 
he  withdrew  his  candidacy. 

He  was  poor  until  his  masterpiece  "  Snow-Bound  " 
appeared,  in  1866,  and  this  —  his  heart  inspiration 
—  brought  him  large  returns.  The  world  read  and 
honoured  this  charming  winter  idyl.  It  was  in  the 
same  year  that  Harvard  College  bestowed  upon  him 
an  LL.D. 

His  summer  idyl,  "  The  Tent  on  the  Beach,"  soon 
130 


JOHN    GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

followed.  This  is  a  story-book,  in  form  like  Long- 
fellow's "  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn  ";  and  to  enjoy  it 
fully  we  must  pitch  our  tent  on  Salisbury  Beach,  "  be- 
side the  waves,  where  the  sea  winds  blow,"  and  where 

"  The  mighty  deep   expands 
From  its  white  line  of  gleaming  sands." 

/ 

Open  Whittier's  poems  anywhere,  one  is  attracted 
by  verse  or  legend  or  ballad,  and  it  is  difficult  to  sug- 
gest how  best  to  read  into  his  works.  He  always 
tells  a  story  easily  so  that  the  plot  is  never  strained. 
Ever  in  sympathy  with  the  sons  of  toil,  there  are 
homely  songs  of  labour,  appealing  to  the  lumberman 
or  fisherman  or  shoemaker. 

How  he  revels  in  an  autumn  scene  as  in  "  The 
Pumpkin  "  when 

"  On  the  fields  of  his  harvest  the  Yankee  looks  forth 
Where  crook-necks  are  coiling  and  yellow  fruit  shines, 

What  moistens  the  lip  and  what  brightens  the  eye? 
What  calls  back  the  past,  like  the  rich  pumpkin-pie  ?  " 

Of  his  Indian  legends,  the  aboriginal  story,  "  The 
Bridal  of  Pennacook  " —  its  scene  laid  on  the  banks 
of  the  classic  Merrimac  —  is  perhaps  the  finest. 

In  his  portrayal  of  colonial  life,  a  most  striking 
poem  is  "  Skipper  Ireson's  Ride  " :  — 

131 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  The  strangest  ride  that  ever  was  sped 
Was  Ireson's,  out  of  Marblehead! 
Old  Floyd  Ireson  for  his  hard  heart, 
Tarred  and  feathered  and  carried  on  a  cart 
By  the  women  of  Marblehead." 

A  pleasing  contrast  is  found  in  "  Amy  Wentworth," 
or  "  The  Countess,"  or  in  the  Christian  "  Swan-Song 
of  Parson  Avery."  The  Quaker  maiden,  Cassandra 
Southwick,  the  witch's  daughter,  Mabel  Martin,  and 
Barbara  Freitchie  —  with  her  lesson  of  defiant  pat- 
riotism already  voiced  by  generations  of  New  Eng- 
land school-children  —  are  all  familiar  pictures. 
Many  regard  u  The  Pipes  at  Lucknow  "  as  Whit- 
tier's  lyrical  masterpiece.  His  religious  creed  often 
finds  beautiful  expression,  specially  in  that  stanza  in 
'*  The  Eternal  Goodness,"  where  he  writes:  — 

"  I  know  not  where  His  islands  lift 

Their  fronded  palms  in  air; 
I  only  know  I  cannot  drift 
Beyond  His  love  and  care." 

Whittier's  prose  does  not  equal  his  poetry  —  con- 
sisting mostly  of  letters,  criticisms,  and  editorials. 
His  only  extensive  work  was  "  Margaret  Smith's 
Journal."  This  is  a  quaint  description  of  her  visit 
to  New  England,  in  1678.  She  embodies  this  in 
letters  which  she  sends  to  her  betrothed  in  England. 
The  whole  is  a  realistic  account  of  the  old  Puritan 

132 


JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

age.  Whittier  was  an  admirer  of  the  saintly  old 
Quaker,  John  Woolman,  and  he  was  happy  in  edit- 
ing his  "  Journal." 

Whittier  once  said:  "I  never  had  any  methods. 
When  I  felt  like  it,  I  wrote.  I  had  neither  health 
nor  patience  to  work  over  it  afterwards."  He  had 
his  faults;  he  often  wrote  too  diffusely,  unequally, 
and  carelessly,  and  there  are  many  lines  and  stanzas 
that  might  better  have  been  omitted;  but  even  if  he 
wrote  very  much,  many  lines  will  live  always. 

He  was  the  "  Poet  of  New  England  " —  its  sights 
and  sounds  and  loves  and  hopes  —  but  his  verse  was 
almost  too  local  to  be  appreciated  abroad.  Richard- 
son calls  him :  — 

"  The  laureate  of  the  ocean  beach,  the  inland  lake,  the 
little  wood-flower,  and  the  divine  sky"; 

and  Holmes  says :  — 

"  Our  stern  New  England  hills  and  vales  and  streams, 
Thy  tuneful  idyls  make  them  all  thine  own." 

Whittier  came  of  sturdy  New  England  stock  but 
he  was  never  very  robust,  and  his  later  years  were 
passed  quietly  in  his  Amesbury  home,  and  in  long 
visits  to  friends  —  and  several  households  to-day 
recall  with  pleasure  their  honoured  guest.  His 
neighbours  were  devoted  to  him,  because  as  one  said : 
"  He  talks  just  like  common  folks."  He  never 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

entered  a  theatre  but  was  a  regular  attendant  at 
Quaker-meeting,  conforming  his  garb  and  manner 
to  Quaker  simplicity.  "  A  shy,  peace-loving  man," 
he  called  himself. 

For  literary  companionship,  he  sometimes  sought 
Mrs.  Field's  parlour  gatherings  in  Boston,  and  be- 
longed to  literary  clubs  with  other  New  England 
poets.  His  old  age  was  enriched  by  many  friend- 
ships. Among  those  with  whom  he  came  in  touch 
were  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Emerson,  Bryant,  Bayard 
Taylor,  Curtis,  Mrs.  Stowe,  Mrs.  Spofford,  and 
Garibaldi.  To  some  of  these  he  wrote  personal 
poems,  and  they,  if  they  were  able,  returned  the  com- 
pliment. 

It  was  while  Whittier  was  sojourning  with  friends 
at  Oak  Knolls,  that  he  died,  on  the  seventh  of  Sep- 
tember, 1892.  His  last  words  —  typical  of  his 
creed  —  were:  "My  love  to  the  world."  A  great 
concourse  gathered  in  the  sunny  orchard  back  of  the 
Amesbury  house  to  attend  the  funeral  service:  even 
boys  were  seated  on  the  fence  and  in  the  apple-trees. 
Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  paid  a  glowing  tribute 
to  the  Quaker  bard.  He  was  laid  in  the  burying- 
ground  on  the  hillside;  and  on  his  tombstone  is 
engraved  just  his  name  —  and  the  words  from 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes:  "Here  Whinier  lies." 

There  are  two  ways,  in  which  one  may  become 
familiar  with  the  personality  of  this  loved  poet.  One 
is  to  read  his  life  as  written  by  himself  in  his  various 


JOHN   GREENLEAF  WHITTIER 

poems,  beginning  with  "  The  Barefoot  Boy,"  and 
following  on  through 

"  The  grand  historic  years 
When  liberty  had  need  of  work  and  word  "; 

and  even  to  the  calmer,  wiser  days  when  as  "  A  man 
grey  grown/'  we  may  follow  him  along  his  "  River 
Path/'  where 

A  long,  slant  splendour  downward  flowed 

And  borne  on  piers  of  mist,  allied 
The  shadowy  with  the  sunlit  side !  " 

The  other  most  charming  way  is,  in  Whittieresque 
spirit,  to  visit  "  Whittier-Land."  All  along  the 
road  from  Haverhill  to  Amesbury,  and  off  to  where 
the  ocean  breaks  on  Salisbury  and  the  Hampton 
Beaches,  there  are  bits  of  landscape  immortalised  in 
the  poems  of  "  The  Wood-Thrush  of  Essex." 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pickard  —  the  latter  a  favourite 
niece  of  the  poet,  who  lived  with  him  during  the  last 
years  of  his  life  —  still  occupy  the  Amesbury  house. 
Mr.  Pickard  is  the  author  not  only  of  "  Life  and 
Letters  of  J.  G.  Whittier,"  but  of  "  Whittier-Land," 
which  contains  many  anecdotes  and  poems  not  before 
made  public;  and  it  is  indeed  delightful  to  hear  Mr. 
Pickard's  gentle  and  humourous  reminiscences  from 
his  own  lips. 

135 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  house  is  a  place  in  which  one  cannot  fail  to 
be  reminiscent,  for  hall  and  parlour  and  garden-room 
are  full  of  associations.  Here  Whittier  received 
many  men  and  women  famed  in  letters.  Here  is 
the  mother's  picture;  the  desk  upon  which  "Snow- 
Bound"  was  written;  an  album  presented  to  the 
poet  on  his  eightieth  birthday,  containing  signatures 
of  all  the  members  of  Congress  and  many  other 
notable  men.  There  are  engravings  and  books  and 
chair  and  lounge  that  he  enjoyed  —  even  coat  and 
hat  and  boots  —  and  as  we  look  and  listen  all 
seem  but  one  living  monument  inscribed  with  Whit- 
tier's  name. 

Whittier  was  perhaps  not  a  great  man,  but  who 
would  not  be  satisfied  with  such  a 

"  Lifelong  record  closed  without  a  stain  — 
A  blameless  memory  shrined  in  deathless  song." 

SELECTED  FROM  POEM  ON  "  BURNS  " 

"Wild  heather-bells  and  Robert  Burns! 

The  moorland  flower  and  peasant! 
How,  at  their  mention,  memory  turns 
Her  pages  old  and  pleasant! 

I  call  to  mind  the  summer  day, 

The  early  harvest  mowing, 
The  sky  with  sun  and  clouds  at  play, 

And  flowers  with  breezes  blowing. 


136 


JOHN    GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

Bees  hummed,  birds  twittered,  overhead 

I  heard  the  squirrels  leaping, 
The  good  dog  listened  while  I  read, 

And  wagged  his  tail  in  keeping. 

I  watched  him  while  in  sportive  mood 

I  read  '  The  Twa  Dogs' '  story, 
And  half  believed  he  understood 

The  poet's  allegory. 

I  matched  with  Scotland's  heathery  hills, 

The  sweetbrier  and  the  clover; 
With  Ayr  and  Doon,  my  native  rills, 

Their  wood-hymns  chanting  over. 

With  clearer  eyes  I  saw  the  worth 

Of  life  among  the  lowly; 
The  Bible  at  his  Cotter's  hearth 

Had  made  my  own  more  ftoly. 

Give  lettered  pomp  to  teeth  of  Time, 

To  '  Bonny  Doon  '  but  tarry ; 
Blot  out  the  Epic's  stately  rhyme, 

But  spare  his  Highland  Mary !  " 

—  Whittier. 


THE  RIVER  PATH 

"  No  bird-song  floated  down  the  hill, 
The  tangled  bank  below  was  still; 

No  rustle  from  the  birchen  stem, 
No  ripple  from  the  water's  hem. 
137 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  dusk  of  twilight  round  us  grew, 
We  felt  the  falling  of  the  dew; 

For,  from  us,  ere  the  day  was  done, 
The  wooded   hills  shut  out  the  sun. 

But  on  the  river's  farther  side 
We  saw  the  hill-tops  glorified, — 

A  tender  glow,  exceeding  fair,     • 
A  dream  of  day  without  its  glare. 

With  us  the  damp,  the  chill,  the  gloom: 
With  them  the  sunset's  rosy  bloom; 

While  dark,  through  willowy  vistas  seen, 
The  river  rolled  in  shade  between. 

From  out  the  darkness  where  we  trod, 
We  gazed  upon  those  hills  of  God, 

Whose  light  seemed  not  of  moon  or  sun, 
We  spake  not,  but  our  thought  was  one. 

We  paused,  as  if  from  that  bright  shore 
Beckoned  our  dear  .ones  gone  before ; 

And  stilled  our  beating  hearts  to  hear 
The  voices  lost  to  mortal  ear! 

Sudden  our  pathway  turned  from  night; 
The  hills  swung  open  to  the  light; 


138 


JOHN    GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 

Through  their  green  gates  the  sunshine  showed, 
A  long,  slant  splendour  downward  flowed. 

Down  glade  and  glen,  and  bank  it  rolled; 
It  bridged  the  shaded  stream  with  gold; 

And,  borne  on  piers  of  mist,  allied 
The  shadowy  with  the  sunlit  side! 

"  So,"  prayed  we,  "  when  our  feet  draw  near, 
The  river  dark,  with  mortal  fear, 

"  And  the  night  cometh  chill  with  dew, 
O  Father!  let  thy  light  break  through! 

"  So  let  the  hills  of  doubt  divide, 
So  bridge  with  faith  the  sunless  tide! 

"  So  let  the  eyes  that  fail  on  earth 
.  On  thy  eternal  hills  look  forth ; 

"  And  in  thy  beckoning  angels  know 
The  dear  ones  whom  we  loved  below ! " 

—  Whittier* 


139 


XVII 

WAR    LITERATURE 

ONE  has  well  said :  - 

"  Many's  the  thing  liberty  has  got  to  do  before  we  have 
achieved  liberty.  Some  day  we'll  make  that  word  real  — 
give  it  universal  meaning!  " 

Our  country  won  its  independence  through  its 
makers  of  freedom;  but  as  we  have  seen,  at  the 
very  outset  of  United  States  History,  there  were 
two  perfectly  distinct  ideas  of  government:  one 
believing  in  a  strong  central  power  at  Wash- 
ington—  the  other  in  rights  of  the  independent 
States;  one  the  Federalist  or  Whig  party  —  the 
other,  the  Anti- Federalist  or  Democratic;  and  while 
both  parties  were  attempting  to  adjust  the  govern- 
ment to  sectional  differences,  discussions  about 
slavery  became  prominent.  This  was  practised  both 
in  the  North  and  South;  but  more  in  the  latter,  for 
the  negro  liked  not  the  colder  climate,  while  he 
seemed  to  flourish  on  the  Southern  plantation.  And 
the  question  took  this  form:  "  Is  slavery  an  evil?  If 
so,  should  it  be  allowed  in  new  States  being  rapidly 
admitted  to  the  Union?  " 

140 


WAR   LITERATURE 

And  oratory  came  again  to  the  fore  —  not  so  im- 
passioned and  picturesque  as  that  belonging  to  the 
Revolutionary  era  —  but  more  intellectual  and  mas- 
terful ;  and  we  must  glance  at  the  characteristics  of 
these  intellectual  giants  in  order  to  appreciate  our 
American  citizenship. 

In  the  stormy  times  during  the  first  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  the  two  parties  —  Whigs  and 
Democrats  —  were  merged  in  three.  There  were 
the  "  Fire-Eaters,"  or  secessionists  of  the  South,  who 
felt  that  they  had  sacrificed  much  in  joining  the 
Union.  One  part  of  the  compact  that  they  had 
made  was  that  their  property  was  to  be  preserved, 
and  that  their  slaves  were  their  property.  The 
leaders  were  John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke,  and  John 
C.  Calhoun,  of  South  Carolina. 

We  speak  first  of  the  brilliant,  eccentric,  and  ex- 
plosive John  Randolph,  who  was  sent,  in  1800,  to 
Congress  from  Virginia.  Believing  fully  in  State 
rights,  he  so  inveighed  against  the  growing  spirit  of 
consolidation  that  he  became  a  perfect  prophet  of 
disunion.  In  regard  to  slavery,  with  his  clear  vision 
he  prophesied  its  fall.  He  opposed  it  in  theory 
while  he  clung  to  it  in  practice.  With  awkward 
manner,  bitter  temper,  and  shrill  voice,  he  was  feared 
by  friend  and  foe  —  but  Congress  was  always  forced 
to  listen  when  John  Randolph  spoke ! 

And  Randolph  prepared  the  way  for  keen,  logical 
John  C.  Calhoun,  the  famous  South  Carolinian  sena- 

141 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

tor,  the  most  distinguished  advocate  of  State  rights. 
He  considered  the  Union  but  an  assembly  of  friendly 
powers,  willing  to  act  together  when  expedient,  but 
otherwise  free  to  follow  their  own  convictions;  and 
he  thought,  too,  that  a  State  could,  if  it  so  pleased, 
nullify  a  law  of  Congress.  Hence,  in  1832,  ap- 
peared the  "  Nullification  Ordinance  "  of  South  Car- 
olina. 

Calhoun  battled  bravely  for  slavery;  for  he  be- 
lieved that  slaves  were  property  and  that  attacks  on 
property  were  in  direct  violation  of  the  Constitution. 
His  personality  was  splendid,  and  he  fought  Daniel 
Webster  with  candour,  courage,  and  loyalty.  His 
own  party  was  absolutely  with  him;  and  is  it  a  won- 
der that  through  his  influence,  South  Carolina,  in 
1860,  led  the  other  States  in  secession  from  the 
Union  ? 

And  over  against  the  secessionists  of  the  South 
were  the  abolitionists  of  the  North,  making  up  in 
zeal  what  they  lacked  in  numbers.  Their  text  was 
—  that  slavery  was  an  awful  crime  that  must  be 
stamped  out,  even  though  the  Union  was  dissolved  in 
doing  it.  Some  of  them  went  too  fast  and  too  far, 
knowing  only  by  report  the  thing  that  they  attacked; 
but  even  so,  theirs  was  the  entering  wedge  that 
achieved  a  final  triumph.  Their  most  potent  forces 
were  William  Lloyd  Garrison,  Wendell  Phillips, 
Charles  Sumner,  and  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

William  Lloyd  Garrison    (1805-1879),  was  the 
142 


WAR   LITERATURE 

fearless  leader.  A  Newburyport  printer,  he  began 
life  with  the  honest  conviction  that  slavery  threatened 
civilisation,  and  he  was  ready  to  arouse  people  to 
violence  in  order  to  exterminate  it. 

As  an  incitement  to  active  war,  he  started  "  The 
Liberator  "  as  the  official  organ  of  the  New  England 
abolitionists,  and  in  it  he  aroused  grave  prejudice  by 
the  following  challenge :  — 

"  I  will  be  as  harsh  as  truth,  and  as  uncompromising  as 
justice,  and  I  will  be  heard!  " 

For  thirty-five  years  he  edited  "  The  Liberator," 
and  he  declaimed  his  principles  with  sonorous  voice, 
though  many  times  hounded  and  mobbed;  but  after 
his  cause  finally  prevailed,  he  was  counted,  in  the 
last  years  of  his  life,  a  national  hero. 

Wendell  Phillips  (1811-1884),  seeing  Garrison 
dragged  through  the  streets  of  Boston  with  a  rope 
tied  about  his  waist,  at  once  joined  the  cause.  He 
made  his  bow  to  the  public  at  a  meeting  in  Faneuil 
Hall,  Boston,  where  abolition  was  being  attacked. 
He  jumped  upon  the  platform,  interrupting  the 
speaker,  took  the  meeting  into  his  own  hands,  turned 
the  tide,  and  his  fame  was  assured. 

He  always  delighted  in  captivating  warlike  audi- 
ences; first  gaining  their  sympathy,  and  then  with  a 
courtesy  born  of  gentle-breeding,  and  with  graceful 
and  finished  eloquence,  leading  them  on  to  conclu- 

143 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

sions  from  which  their  judgment  often  rebelled.  So 
with  perfectly  trained  voice  and  rich  utterances,  this 
silver-tongued  orator  exhorted  the  North  and  antag- 
onised the  South;  and  in  his  later  lecture  tours,  when 
the  war  was  over,  he  spoke  on  many  other  subjects, 
two  prominent  ones  being  temperance  and  woman's 
rights. 

A  short  time  ago,  on  the  one  hundredth  anniver- 
sary of  his  birth,  Wendell  Phillips  was  called  "  A 
Knight-errant  of  Humanity,"  "  because  he  met  the 
burning  questions  of  his  time  with  dauntless  courage 
and  a  faith  that  never  wavered." 

And  now  we  must  set  forward  yet  another  aboli- 
tionist from  Massachusetts,  the  scholarly  senator 
Charles  Sumner  (1811-1894),  whom  the  slave-hold- 
ers in  Congress  feared  and  hated.  He  wrote  in 
twelve  compact  volumes  the  history  of  the  anti-slavery 
movement,  proclaiming  most  aggressively  his  "  New 
Declaration  of  Independence";  and  he  established 
his  oratorical  fame  by  his  celebrated  address  on 
"  The  True  Grandeur  of  Nations." 

Garrison  was  the  journalist  —  Whittier  the  poet 
—  Phillips  the  orator  —  and  Sumner  the  historian  of 
the  abolitionists;  and  there  remains  the  novel  of  the 
party,  which,  perhaps  more  than  any  other  force, 
precipitated  the  Civil  War.  This  was  "  Uncle 
Tom's  Cabin,"  written  by  u  a  little  bit  of  a  woman," 
Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe. 

She  belonged  to  a  noteworthy  family;  and  her 
144 


WAR   LITERATURE 

father,  Rev.  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher,  regarded  the  abo- 
lition movement  as  "  an  instance  of  infatuation 
permitted  by  Heaven  for  purposes  of  national  retribu- 
tion." As  a  girl,  Mrs.  Stowe's  home  was  for  a  while 
in  Cincinnati,  on  the  borderland  of  slavery.  She  had 
seen  the  fugitives  and  heard  their  stories  at  first- 
hand, and  she  had,  also,  visited  a  Kentucky  planta- 
tion. 

When  the  "  Fugitive  Slave  Law  "  was  passed,  in 
1850,  requiring  citizens  of  free  States  to  return 
those  who  escaped  to  them,  she  was  filled  with  indig- 
nation. At  this  time  her  husband  was  a  professor 
in  Bowdoin  College,  and  she  determined  —  with  six 
little  children,  the  youngest  not  a  year  old,  and  with 
constant  difficulty  in  obtaining  household  service  — 
to  write  a  novel  with  a  grand  purpose!  She  knew 
that  to  make  it  appealing,  it  must  be  brilliant  in 
colouring;  and  she  became  the  spinner  of  a  realistic 
tale  that  went  right  to  the  heart  of  the  Northerner, 
while  it  excited  intense  and  bitter  feeling  at  the 
South. 

The  plot  was  rambling  and  carelessly  strung  to- 
gether —  its  syntax  was  faulty  —  and  it  had  man} 
literary  crudities;  but  Uncle  Tom  and  little  Eva  were 
tremendously  alive,  and  the  book  was  full  of  emo- 
tional interest.  It  broke  down  New  England  prej- 
udice against  novel-reading  and  theatre-going  —  for 
even  the  Puritan  read  it,  and  entered  the  theatre  for 
the  first  time  to  see  it  played. 

H5 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

And  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin "  had  pointed  its 
moral ;  it  had  larger  circulation  both  here  and  abroad 
than  any  other  American  book  that  had  been  pub- 
lished; it  was  translated  into  between  thirty  and  forty 
languages,  inspiring  many,  even  in  Eastern  lands, 
with  an  enlarged  spirit  of  brotherhood.  This  re- 
mains Mrs.  Stowe's  master-stroke  of  genius,  though 
she  followed  it  with  other  valuable  books. 

In  her  "  Life,"  recently  written  by  her  son  and 
grandson,  this  story  is  told: 

"  When  Mr.  Seward  introduced  Mrs.  Stowe  to 
President  Lincoln,  the  latter  rose,  saying:  "  Why, 
Mrs.  Stowe,  right  glad  to  see  you !  "  and  then  with 
humourous  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  added:  "  So  you're 
the  little  woman  who  wrote  the  book  that  made  this 
great  war !  " 

We  have  alluded  to  the  influence  of  the  secession 
and  abolition  parties,  both  of  which  were  willing  to 
destroy  the  Union,  if  needful  to  gain  their  ends. 
The  third,  or  conservative  party,  believed  that  com- 
promise must  be  made  to  secure  at  any  cost  liberty 
and  union,  and  from  them  this  is  called  "  The  Com- 
promise Period."  The  most  formidable  exponents 
of  the  party  were  Henry  Clay,  of  Virginia,  and 
Daniel  Webster,  of  New  Hampshire. 

Henry  Clay  (1777-1852),  was  a  poor  boy  whose 
academic  education  was  gained  in  a  log-cabin,  but 
he  was  very  clever  and  rose  rapidly,  and  was  in 
political  life  in  Washington  until  he  was  seventy- 

146 


WAR   LITERATURE 

three,  always  representing  his  adopted  State,   Ken- 
tucky. 

With  Calhoun,  he  advocated  State  rights,  but  with 
Webster,  he  felt  that  they  must  imperil  the  Union. 
He  was  a  winning  orator;  his  delivery  was  impress- 
ive; and  he  painted  the  evils  of  dis-union  in  such 
vivid  colours  that  the  crisis  was  long  postponed. 
The  thing  in  which  he  was  most  active  was  in  secur- 
ing, in  1820,  the  "Missouri  Compromise,"  accom- 
plished after  long  and  hot  debates  in  Congress. 
This  allowed  Missouri  to  come  in  as  a  slave  State, 
but  forbade  slavery  henceforth  to  be  carried  North 
of  its  Southern  line. 

Senatorial  and  Cabinet  honours  came  to  Clay;  and 
while  he  stoutly  asserted  that  he  "  would  rather  be 
right  than  to  be  President,"  he  was  keenly  disap- 
pointed when  the  latter  high  office  did  not  come  his 
way. 

And  at  Henry  Clay's  side,  must  always  stand 
Daniel  Webster  (1782-1852).  A  poor  boy,  work- 
ing on  a  stubborn  New  Hampshire  farm,  he  early 
declaimed  his  political  views  to  the  horses  and  cattle 
in  the  fields.  With  his  clothes  tied  up  in  a  bandanna 
handkerchief,  he  walked  into  Exeter  and  appeared  at 
Phillips  Academy,  and  begged  an  education.  He 
won  laurels  there;  and  afterwards  was  so  prominent 
at  Dartmouth  College,  that  at  eighteen,  he  was  in- 
vited to  deliver  the  "  Fourth  of  July  "  oration,  and 
u  Liberty  and  Union  "  then  as  ever  was  his  text. 

U7 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

His  style  was,  at  first,  rather  of  the  spread-eagle 
kind  that  was  most  fashionable  in  those  days,  but  a 
friend  laughed  at  him,  and  he  struggled  hard  until 
he  transformed  it  into  a  simple,  sturdy,  Saxon  diction ; 
and  it  was  not  long  before  he  could  strike  mighty 
blows  with  argumentative  force.  We  may  not  fol- 
low him  as  a  successful  lawyer  and  statesman, 
wherein  he  showed  marvellous  insight  in  discussing 
either  law  or  fact;  but  it  is  his  commanding  power 
as  an  orator  that  brings  him  into  our  literary  story. 

His  reputation  was  established  by  an  address  at 
Plymouth,  on  the  two-hundredth  anniversary  of  the 
landing  of  the  Pilgrims.  There  were  two  famous 
orations  in  connection  with  the  Bunker  Hill  Monu- 
ment; noted  eulogies  on  Adams  and  Jefferson;  and 
realistic  portrayals  of  many  other  subjects.  Highest 
honours,  however,  came  to  him  in  his  renowned 
speech,  in  1830  — "  The  Reply  to  Hayne." 

At  this  time,  Calhoun  was  Vice-President,  and 
through  his  lieutenant,  Robert  T.  Hayne,  he  pre- 
sented his  argument  for  severing  the  Union. 

Daniel  Webster  employed  his  finest  sentences  to 
prove  that  the  Nation  was  greater  than  any  State,  and 
for  four  hours  he  held  the  attention  of  the  vast  audi- 
ence —  and  he  proved  his  point.  His  oration  closed 
with  the  words:  "  Liberty  and  Union,  now  and  for- 
ever, one  and  inseparable !  " 

He  was  very  fond  of  this  triplicate  form  of  utter- 
ance. Another  illustration  is:  "Let  our  object  be 

148 


WAR  LITERATURE 

our  country,  our  whole  country,  and  nothing  but  our 
country  " ;  and  yet  a  stronger  one :  "  I  was  born  an 
American,  I  live  an  American,  I  die  an  American." 
These  phrases  became  watchwords,  or  better  rally- 
ing-cries,  for  the  Whig  party  to  take  up  the  sword 
in  defence  of  liberty. 

Young  Emerson,  for  one,  in  his  fascination  "  fol- 
lowed his  great  forehead  from  court-house  to  Senate 
chamber,  from  the  caucus  to  the  street  I  "  And 
speaking  of  his  "  great  forehead  "  suggests  his  strik- 
ing appearance.  People  turned  to  gaze  at  him  in 
the  street,  for  as  one  has  said,  "  He  looked  great!  " 
and  Whittier  —  who  for  a  time  gave  him  hero-wor- 
ship —  describes  him  as 

"  New  England's  stateliest  type  of  man, 
In  port  and  speech  Olympian; 
Whom  no  one  met,  at  first,  but  took 
A  second  awed  and  wondering  look." 

As  party  contests  waxed  more  sharp,  Webster  still 
maintained  the  fight;  and  then  there  came  to  him  an 
ambition  to  be  President,  and  for  this  to  win  the 
Southern  vote;  and  in  his  last  striking  oration  de- 
livered in  1850,  there  was  too  much  compromise  — 
too  much  yielding  to  the  "  Fugitive  Slave  Law  " — 
so  odious  to  his  adopted  State,  Massachusetts,  that 
never  could  tolerate  any  modern  views.  As  a  result, 
Webster  was  denounced  by  the  North ;  and  Whittier, 

149 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

in  his  poem,  "Ichabod!"  represented  his  idol  as 
"So  fallen!  so  lost!" 

But  may  not  the  great  statesman  have  been  mis- 
judged? May  he  not  have  felt  that  yet  more  com- 
promise would  preserve  his  "  Liberty  and  Union  " 
without  war?  Who  can  tell?  Webster,  however, 
was  disappointed  and  embittered  by  criticism  and 
political  defeat,  and  his  health  began  to  fail.  His 
last  words  were,  "  I  still  live  " —  and  he  does  live 
to-day  as  our  most  masterful  orator. 

On  the  exterior  of  Saunders's  Theatre,  the  oratori- 
cal centre  of  Harvard  College,  are  seen  seven  sculp- 
tured heads,  representing  the  world's  supreme  ora- 
tors. They  are  Demosthenes,  Cicero,  St.  Chrysos- 
tom,  Bossuet,  Chatham,  Burke  —  and  Daniel  Web- 
ster! 

War  literature  was  not  without  its  many  inspiring 
poems  and  songs,  and  we  may  give  space  to  but  a 
single  utterance  on  both  sides.  Father  Ryan,  a 
chaplain  in  the  Southern  army,  loved  the  South,  and 
worked  for  his  fellowmen  with  gentleness  and  sym- 
pathy. He  was  laureate  of  the  Confederacy;  and 
in  his  poem,  "  The  Conquered  Banner,"  he  voiced 
the  feelings  of  a  heart-broken  people.  We  quote 
the  first  and  last  stanzas :  — 

"  Furl  that  Banner,  for  'tis  weary ; 
Round  its  staff  'tis  drooping  dreary; 
Furl  it,  fold  it, —  it  is  best : 

150 


LINCOLN  EMANCIPATION  STATUE  AT  WASHINGTON,  D.  C. 


WAR   LITERATURE 

For  there's  not  a  man  to  wave  it, 
And  there's  not  a  sword  to  save  it, 
And  there's  not  one  left  to  lave  it 
In  the  blood  which  heroes  gave  it, 
And  its  foes  now  scorn  and  brave  it; 

Furl   it,    hide    it, —  let   it   rest! 
Furl  that  Banner,  softly,  slowly! 
Treat  it  gently  —  it  is  holy, 

For  it  droops  above  the  dead, 
Touch  it  not  —  unfold  it  never; 
Let  it  droop  there,  furled  forever, — 

For  its  people's  hopes  are  fled." 

And  Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  became  the  laureate 
of  the  Union  army  as  her  magnetic  "  Battle  Hymn 
of  the  Republic  "  sang  itself  into  being.  The  story 
of  its  writing  is  familiar:  One  day  returning  with  her 
old  pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  James  Freeman  Clarke,  from 
witnessing  a  parade  outside  of  Washington,  they 
heard  the  soldiers  singing  "  John  Brown's  Body," 
and  Dr.  Clarke  asked  her  to  put  more  suitable 
words  to  the  music.  She,  at  first,  declined;  but  in 
the  grey  of  the  following  morning,  the  inspiration 
came  to  her,  and  rising,  she  jotted  down  the  stanzas 
from  which  we  select  a  few  lines :  — 

"  In  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  Christ  was  born  across  the  sea, 
With  a  glory  in  His  bosom  that  transfigures  you  and  me; 
As  He  died  to  make  men  holy,  let  us  die  to  make  men 

free, 
While  God  is  marching  on." 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

And  now  we  need  just  one  more  character  to  unite 
our  scattered  parties  and  to  complete  our  chronicle 
—  and  this  must  be  Abraham  Lincoln,  "  The  Eman- 
cipator." Think  of  introducing  a  man  with  less 
than  a  year's  schooling  into  a  literary  record!  But 
this  man  had  as  a  boy  manifested  indomitable  will  in 
freeing  himself  from  the  fetters  of  ignorance.  He 
had  read  over  and  over  a  few  good  books,  until 
from  them  he  had  gained  the  golden  art  of  speaking 
and  writing  distinctly  and  to  the  point. 

Thus  he  had  shaped  a  style  of  his  own,  unsurpassed 
in  strength,  sincerity,  and  directness.  His  State 
papers  were  models  of  expression,  and  he  won 
national  fame  in  his  debates  with  Senator  Douglas. 

A  plain  blunt  man,  he  was  abounding  in  wit  and 
humour,  but  often  carrying  a  sad  heart,  weighed  down 
by  the  burdens  of  his  fellows  —  and  the  greater  the 
occasion,  the  more  his  heart  was  touched,  the  more 
were  his  soul  depths  revealed  —  and  yet  he  hardly 
thought  of  literary  fame;  but  he  has  bequeathed  us 
two  masterpieces  that  belong  quite  as  much  to  liter- 
ature as  to  politics.  . 

One  was  his  "  Second  Inaugural,"  delivered  on 
March  fourth,  1865,  "With  malice  toward  none; 
with  charity  for  all " —  it  was  full  of  faith  and 
spirituality,  and  seemed  like  a  benediction  —  so 
soon  was  it  followed  by  the  tragedy  that  closed  his 
life.  Perhaps,  however,  the  address  that  will  make 
him  longest  remembered  is  the  one  delivered  at 

152 


WAR   LITERATURE 

Gettysburg,  on  November  nineteenth,  1863,  on  tne 
day  when  the  National  Cemetery  was  consecrated  to 
the  long-sought  liberty. 

Edward  Everett,  called  "  the  most  accomplished 
gentleman  of  his  time,"  who  was  in  turn  editor, 
preacher,  foreign  minister,  member  of  Congress, 
Secretary  of  State,  Governor  of  Massachusetts,  and 
President  of  Harvard  College  —  preceded  the 
speaker  of  the  day.  With  graceful  and  dignified 
mien,  he  gave  one  of  his  smooth  and  flowing  musical 
addresses  which  lasted  for  two  hours,  and  which  was 
greeted  by  enthusiastic  applause. 

President  Lincoln  had  been  too  busy  to  prepare  a 
speech  but  en  route  from  Washington  he  had  written 
with  the  stub  of  a  pencil  on  a  bit  of  wrapping-paper 
—  a  few  notes,  and  when  Mr.  Everett  took  his  seat 
he  rose  awkwardly,  "  without  grace  of  look  or  man- 
ner," and  in  a  high,  thin  voice  made  his  brief  address, 
and  seated  himself.  Perfect  silence  followed  —  he 
knew  that  he  had  failed! 

After  all  was  over,  he  congratulated  Mr.  Everett, 
and  Mr.  Everett  in  his  reply  said:  "  I  should  be  glad 
if  I  could  flatter  myself  that  I  came  as  near  the 
central  idea  of  the  occasion  in  two  hours  as  you  did 
in  two  minutes!"  And  to-day  President  Lincoln's 
"Gettysburg  Address"  is  called,  "  The  Top  and 
Crown  of  American  Eloquence."  It  is  displayed 
on  one  of  the  walls  of  Oxford  University  to  show 
the  students  how  much  can  be  said  in  less  than  three 

153 


STORY    OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

hundred  words,  and  for  the  same  reason  it  is  men- 
tioned here  that  our  American  youth  may  acquire 
from  it  the  habit  of  concise  utterance. 

THE  GETTYSBURG  ADDRESS 
November  nineteenth,  1863 

"  Fourscore  and  seven  years  ago  our  fathers 
brought  forth  upon  this  continent  a  new  nation,  con- 
ceived in  liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that 
all  men  are  created  equal.  Now  we  are  engaged  in  a 
great  civil  war,  testing  whether  that  nation,  or  any  na- 
tion so  conceived  and  so  dedicated,  can  long  endure. 
We  are  met  on  a  great  battle-field  of  that  war.  We 
have  come  to  dedicate  a  portion  of  that  field  as  a 
final  resting-place  for  those  who  here  gave  their  lives 
that  that  nation  might  live.  It  is  altogether  fitting 
and  proper  that  we  should  do  this.  But  in  a  larger 
sense  we  cannot  dedicate,  we  cannot  consecrate,  we 
cannot  hallow  this  ground.  The  brave  men,  living 
and  dead,  who  struggled  here,  have  consecrated  it 
far  above  our  power  to  add  or  detract.  The  world 
will  little  note,  nor  long  remember,  what  we  say  here, 
but  it  can  never  forget  what  they  did  here.  It  is  for 
us,  the  living,  rather  to  be  dedicated  here  to  the  un- 
finished work  which  they  who  fought  here  have  thus 
far  so  nobly  advanced. 

It  is  rather  for  us  to  be  here  dedicated  to  the  great 
task  remaining  before  us,  that  from  these  honoured 
dead  we  take  increased  devotion  to  that  cause  for 

154 


WAR   LITERATURE 

which  they  gave  the  last  full  measure  of  devotion; 
that  we  here  highly  resolve  that  these  dead  shall  not 
have  died  in  vain;  that  this  nation,  under  God,  shall 
have  a  new  birth  of  freedom,  and  that  government 
of  the  people,  by  the  people,  and  for  the  people,  shall 
not  perish  from  the  earth." 

—  Lincoln. 

FROM  "  THE  BUILDING  OF  THE  SHIP  " 

"Thou,  too,  sail  on,  O  ship  of  State! 
Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great! 
Humanity  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  the  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate! 
We  know  what  Master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel, 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat, 
In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope! 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock, 
'Tis  of  the  wave  and  not  the  rock; 
'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 
And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale! 
In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest's  roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 
Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea! 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee, 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears5 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee, —  are  all  with  thee!  " 

—  Longfellow. 

155 


XVIII 

BANCROFT  AND  PRESCOTT 

GEORGE  BANCROFT    (1800-1891) 

WILLIAM   HICKLING   PRESCOTT    (1796-1859) 

CENTURIES  have  rolled  byl  do  they  mean  anything 
to  the  eager  youth  of  our  day,  who,  absorbed  in  mod- 
ern interests,  almost  forget  that  there  is  a  past,  for 
they  have  so  little  time  to  pore  over  its  story,  and 
to  gaze  upon  their  ancestors  from  many  lands. 
They  may  call  history  dull.  Well  there  are,  as 
Carlyle  says,  two  kinds  —  one  "  dry  as  dust,"  the 
other  "  alive  " —  and  any  youth  will  find  it  an  in- 
valuable stimulus  to  read  himself  into  a  love  for 
"  alive  "  history;  for  "  alive  "  history  is  like  a  pan- 
orama, unrolling  in  miniature  scenes  of  adventure 
and  exploration  and  war  and  camp  and  court  and 
senate. 

Do  we  realise  the  gratitude  which  we  owe  the  his- 
torian? Think  of  what  he  must  possess  and  what 
he  must  do.  He  should  first  have  plenty  of  leisure 
to  spend  in  investigation  and  plenty  of  money  to 
conduct  this  investigation  by  travel  —  sometimes 
covering  hundreds  of  miles  to  verify  a  single  fact. 
Added  to  these,  are  the  study  of  languages,  and  the 

156 


BANCROFT   AND   PRESCOTT 

purchase  of  costly  maps  and  pictures  and  manuscripts. 
Extreme  patience  and  perseverance  are  required  in 
unearthing  dusty  records,  and  finally  all  are  to  be  col- 
lected and  arranged  in  correct  perspective. 

And  the  historian  must  steer  most  carefully  be- 
tween Scylla  and  Charybdis;  knowing  that  if  his 
work  is  too  poetic  or  imaginative,  it  will  not  be 
counted  accurate  —  while  if  it  is  unadorned,  it  will 
not  be  read.  All  honour  to  the  successful  one  1 

We  recall  many  faithful  historians  —  those  who 
have  well  exploited  our  past:  the  colonial  took  part 
in  the  scenes  which  he  describes,  while  others 
looked  back  at  them  over  the  centuries;  and  there 
are  many  to-day  in  the  ranks  working  earnestly.  As 
our  study  is  not  with  living  authors,  we  select  four  of 
those  who  wrote  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  from 
each  we  shall  try  to  obtain  a  memory  picture  that 
may  prove  a  sesame  to  unlock  an  interest  in  their 
spirited  work.  These  are  Bancroft  and  Prescott, 
Motley  and  Parkman. 

George  Bancroft  (1800-1891),  the  son  of  a  Con- 
gregational minister  at  Worcester,  Massachusetts, 
came  into  the  world  with  the  century.  An  alert, 
shrewd  boy,  he  graduated  at  Harvard  at  sixteen, 
taking  such  high  rank  that  at  the  request  of  the 
college,  he  was  sent  to  Germany  to  study.  Here 
again  he  proved  an  eager  student  in  both  history  and 
philosophy,  and  he  specially  equipped  himself  as  a 
linguist. 

157 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  enjoyed  rather  unusual  experiences  for  a 
young  American  of  his  time,  for  he  was  received  with 
honour  by  such  distinguished  Germans  as  Goethe, 
Von  Humboldt,  Bunsen,  and  Niebuhr.  Besides,  he 
met  Byron  and  other  English  literary  men. 

After  five  years  he  returned  home.  Shortly  he 
published  a  small  book  of  poems;  and  in  the  same 
year,  with  a  friend  he  established  the  Round  Hill 
School  for  boys,  at  Northampton,  Massachusetts. 
For  some  time,  this  was  most  successful,  for  boys  of 
prominent  families  came  from  all  over  the  land;  and 
in  this  building  may  be  seen  the  little  study  in  which 
Bancroft  commenced  his  stupendous  work,  "  The 
History  of  the  United  States."  After  a  decade,  the 
school  lost  its  popularity  and  the  boys  stampeded. 

Bancroft,  nevertheless,  was  not  discouraged.  He 
presently  was  appointed  collector  of  the  port  of  Bos- 
ton, and  later  Secretary  of  the  Navy;  and  while  he 
could  not  pilot  a  boat,  he  determined  that  others 
should  be  proficient  in  sea-tactics,  and  urged  the 
founding  of  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis.  In 
time,  he  was  sent  on  diplomatic  missions  to  both  Eng- 
land and  Germany.  But  wherever  he  lived  or  what- 
ever he  did,  other  duties  were  never  permitted  to  in- 
terfere with  his  wide  and  painstaking  research  into 
historical  studies. 

His  principal  work  was  "  The  History  of  the 
United  States  from  the  Discovery  of  the  Continent 
to  the  Establishment  of  the  Constitution  in  1789." 

158 


BANCROFT   AND    PRESCOTT 

This  was  in  several  volumes,  to  which  were  after- 
wards added  two  more,  "  The  History  of  the  For- 
mation of  the  Constitution."  The  first  volume  was 
published  in  1850  —  the  last  in  1874  —  and  they 
were  extensively  read  as  they  came  out.  Through 
all,  the  writer  adhered  to  a  rigid  rule  to  secure  per- 
fect accuracy.  The  work  is  clear,  concise,  and  ex- 
cellent —  and  indispensable  in  a  well-equipped  ref- 
erence library. 

Bancroft  believed  so  fully  in  the  dignity  of  history 
that  his  actors  are  often  statuesque  rather  than  soul- 
ful. He  perhaps  digressed  too  much;  and  he  was 
such  an  intense  upholder  of  everything  American 
that  he  is  sometimes  more  patriotic  than  critical. 

But  Bancroft's  narrative  is  masterful,  and  more 
than  as  teacher,  poet,  essayist,  traveller,  philologist, 
or  diplomat  —  will  he  be  held  in  remembrance  as 
the  historian  of  our  United  States.  Perchance  be- 
cause he  toiled  so  zealously  and  to  such  a  good  old 
age,  he  is  sometimes  designated  "  A  prose  Homer," 
or  again  "  A  modern  Herodotus." 

He  was  twice  married,  and  lived  for  years  in 
Twenty-first  Street,  New  York;  but  he  is  more  asso. 
ciated  with  his  Washington  house,  near  the  Congres- 
sional Library.  He  was  so  fond  of  politics  that 
naturally  life  at  the  Capital  was  absorbing,  and  as 
he  lived  ninety-one  years,  he  came  into  touch  with 
successive  generations  of  statesmen. 

Here  it  was  that  his  library  grew  into  vast  pro- 
159 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

portions  —  from  floor  to  ceiling,  on  the  window- 
seats,  overflowing  into  other  rooms  —  for  he  liter- 
ally burrowed  in  books,  sparing  neither  time  nor 
money  in  the  selection  of  his  twelve  thousand  vol- 
umes, and  in  procuring  authentic  copies  of  State 
documents. 

His  summer  residence  was  at  Newport,  Rhode 
Island.  Here  he  set  his  rose-garden  to  bloom  with 
as  much  energy  as  he  bestowed  upon  his  library  in 
winter  —  for  books  and  flowers  were  his  loves. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  history :  One  may  be  com- 
pared to  a  map  with  its  exact  dimensions,  distances, 
and  angles.  Such  a  history  is  Bancroft's  —  reliable, 
definite,  and  exact;  the  other  is  found  in  the  histori.es 
of  William  Hickling  Prescott  (1796-1859),  in 
which  we  forget  the  boundaries,  for  he  painted  his 
scenes  in  such  gorgeous  colouring  that  Daniel  Web- 
ster exclaimed,  after  reading  his  first  work:  "  A  new 
meteor  has  suddenly  blazed  forth  in  full  splendour." 

And  as  we  turn  to  Prescott's  shaded  life,  we 
realise  in  what  striking  contrast  it  stands  to  his  writ- 
ings. His  brave,  literary  ancestry  is  shown  in  two 
crossed  swords  that  hang  on  the  walls  of  the  Massa- 
chusetts Historical  Society:  one  belonged  to  his 
grandfather,  Gen.  Prescott,  who  fought  on  the 
American  side  at  Bunker  Hill  —  the  other  to  his 
maternal  grandfather,  a  British  officer  in  an  earlier 
war. 

The  homestead  was  at  Pepperell,  Massachusetts, 
1 60 


FRANCIS  PARKMAN 


BANCROFT   AND    PRESCOTT 

but  Prescott's  birthplace  was  Salem,  where  his  father 
was  a  prominent  lawyer.  He  liked  to  read  and  to 
tell  a  story;  but  he  was  not  fond  of  applying  himself, 
and  after  he  had  successfully  passed  his  examinations 
at  Harvard,  he  wrote  home  that  he  felt  twenty 
pounds  lighter.  A  graceful,  interesting  youth,  with 
wealth  and  sparkling  social  qualities,  he  seemed  to 
have  everything  to  make  life  attractive  when  sud- 
denly his  whole  future  was  changed  by  a  simple  crust 
of  bread.  This  crust  thrown  across  the  table  in  a 
students'  frolic  at  Harvard  hit  Prescott  in  the  eye 
and  entirely  destroyed  its  vision. 

He  struggled  manfully  with  the  situation,  and  at- 
tempted to  go  on  with  his  studies,  and  then  was  sent 
to  the  Azores  and  to  Europe  for  his  health;  but 
brave  living  in  a  darkened  room,  and  the  advice  of 
the  best  physicians  were  of  no  avail  —  the  other  eye 
sympathised  more  and  more  until  its  light  almost 
went  out  —  and  Prescott  faced  the  question  what 
should  he  do  with  his  future. 

He  might  spend  it  in  leisure,  always  tagged  with 
"  I  am  blind,"  and  thus  gain  the  sympathy  of  the 
world;  but  with  unflinching  purpose  he  decided  that 
loss  of  eyesight  should  not  ruin  his  career.  He 
could  not  be  a  lawyer  as  he  had  planned,  but  he 
might  become  a  scholar  and  write  books,  and  like 
Milton,  he  "  cared  not  how  late  he  came  into  life, 
only  that  he  came  fit." 

An  indifferent  pupil  as  a  boy,  he  now  studied 
161 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

grammar  and  rhetoric  and  French  and  German  and 
Spanish  and  Latin  classics,  and  he  found  in  London 
a  noctograph,  or  blind-man's  writing-machine,  which 
helped  him  greatly.  His  plan  for  a  working-day 
was  seven  hours,  in  which  he  might  use  his  eyes  five 
minutes  at  a  time  for  perhaps  thirty-five  minutes ;  for 
the  rest,  his  secretary  read  to  him  so  that,  as  he  said, 
his  ears  should  assist  his  eyes. 

He  learned  to  concentrate  his  mind  upon  a  single 
theme  and  to  assimilate  facts  to  an  extraordinary 
degree,  so  that  he  finally  could  dictate  as  many  as 
fifty  or  sixty  pages  a  day,  and  sometimes  he  would 
for  days  carry  many  pages  in  his  mind.  Often  he 
would  be  weary,  but  he  prodded  himself  on,  until 
he  had  spent  ten  years  in  preparation  for  a  literary 
life. 

Spain  —  always  alluring  to  our  romancers  —  at- 
tracted him  as  it  did  Irving,  for  his  internal  vision 
gloried  in  the  rich  colouring,  and  yet  he  specially  dis- 
liked searching  into  old  records;  but  readers  read  to 
him,  and  copyists  copied  for  him  in  large  script  so 
that  he  might  make  his  own  corrections;  and  while 
walking  and  driving,  he  mentally  arranged  his  scenes 
and  fought  his  battles. 

In  1837,  his  "  History  of  Ferdinand  and  Isabella  " 
was  published,  and  at  once  was  most  successful  both 
here  and  abroad,  and  coming  out  just  before  Christ- 
mas, it  became  the  fashionable  holiday  gift.  En- 
couraged by  its  reception,  he  sent  fifteen  hundred 

162 


BANCROFT   AND    PRESCOTT 

dollars  to  Madrid,  for  manuscript  copies  of  Spanish 
"State  papers,  and  in  1843,  ms  "  Conquest  of  Mex- 
ico "  appeared.  This  was  the  subject  on  which  Irv- 
ing had  intended  to  write  but  which  he  gracefully 
surrendered  to  Prescott;  and  Prescott  revelled  in  the 
early  and  magnificent  civilisation  of  Mexico,  and 
somehow  he  made  this  history  of  Cortez's  achieve- 
ment read  just  like  a  tale  of  chivalry. 

This  was  followed,  in  1847,  by  "  The  Conquest  of 
Peru,"  in  which  we  have  the  daring  exploits  of  a 
handful  of  adventurers  under  Pizarro,  their  intrepid 
leader,  capturing  the  land  of  the  Incas,  and  again 
enriching  Spain  with  gold  and  jewels.  How  Pres- 
cott loved  the  gorgeous  pageantry !  for  truly  "  the 
glint  of  armour  is  in  it,  the  crimson  and  gold  and 
floating  banners  and  the  movement  of  advancing 
hosts."  His  last  book,  "  The  History  of  Philip  II," 
he  did  not  live  to  complete. 

It  was  in  his  home  in  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  in  his 
darkened  library,  reached  by  a  concealed  stairway, 
that  he  toiled  assiduously,  year  after  year,  with  his 
noctograph,  reader,  and  copyist.  His  patient,  per- 
severing effort  was  rewarded  by  admiring  friends  on 
both  sides  of  the  ocean.  Oxford  gave  him  a  de- 
gree; Macaulay,  and  Thackeray  and  Gladstone 
greatly  honoured  him;  and  his  books  were  translated 
into  five  foreign  languages  —  and  yet  Prescott  was 
sensible  of  his  limitations.  Once  he  said:  "  I  have 
as  good  bairns  as  fall  to  lot  of  most  men;  a  wife 

163 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

whom  a  quarter  of  century  of  love  has  made  my 
better  half  —  but  the  sweet  fountain  of  intellectual 
vision  of  which  I  drunk  in  boyhood  is  sealed  to  me 
for  ever.n 

And  yet  he  said  again :  "  There  is  no  happiness 
so  great  as  that  of  a  permanent  and  lovely  interest 
in  some  intellectual  labour."  Truly  he  must  have 
realised  Jean  Ingelow's  words:  "  Work  is  Heaven's 
Rest." 

The  noblest  monument  of  Prescott  is  his  sunshiny 
disposition.  Bancroft  said  of  him:  — 

"  He  was  greater  than  his  writings." 


164 


XIX 

MOTLEY  AND  PARKMAN 

JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY   (1814-1877) 

FRANCIS  PARKMAN  (1823-1893) 

JOHN  LOTHROP  MOTLEY  was  born  in  Dorchester, 
Massachusetts,  and  died  near  Dorchester,  England. 
His  genial  biographer,  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes, 
gives  a  happy  picture  of  his  childhood  days  in  the 
Walnut  Street  home,  in  Boston. 

Here  the  great  attic  and  garden  were  given  over 
to  the  sports  of  this  "  Embryo  Dramatist "  of  a 
nation's  life,  and  his  two  playfellows,  Wendell 
Phillips,  "The  Silver-tongued  Orator"  to  be,  and 
Gold  Appleton,  the  future  wit  and  essayist,  of  whom 
Holmes  has  well  said  that  "  he  has  spilled  more  good 
things  on  the  wasteful  air  in  conversation  than  would 
carry  a  diner-out  through  half  a  dozen  London  sea- 


sons." 


With  cloaks  and  doublets  and  plumed  hats,  these 
youthful  knights  or  bandits  enacted  all  kinds  of  im- 
promptu dramas.  One  day,  for  example,  the 
younger  brother  was  found  upon  the  floor  wrapped 
in  a  shawl,  and  kept  quiet  by  sweetmeats,  while  figur- 
ing as  the  "  Dead  Caesar,"  while  over  the  prostrate 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

figure  one  of  the  literary  trio  was  declaring  Mark 
Antony's  oration  1 

Young  Motley  was  always  reading  or  studying, 
and  at  the  age  of  eleven,  he  surprised  his  family 
with  two  chapters  of  a  novel  —  but  it  was  never  com- 
pleted. When  he  went  to  boarding-school,  he  wrote 
home  for  books  and  newspapers  — "  Nothing  to  eat, 
nothing  to  drink,  but  books!"  For  a  time  he 
studied  under  Bancroft,  at  the  Round  Hill  School, 
and  at  seventeen,  graduated  from  Harvard  —  an 
impulsive  youth,  of  striking  personal  beauty,  but  too 
haughty  to  be  popular.  He  was  already  a  fine  con- 
versationalist and  devoted  to  society. 

Then  he  went  abroad  and  at  Gottingen  and  Berlin, 
he  established  with  his  fellow-student,  Bismarck,  a 
life-long  intimacy.  The  beauty  of  his  eyes  and  the 
ease  with  which  he  acquired  German  were  what 
first  attracted  the  great  diplomat.  On  his  re- 
turn, he  married  the  sister  of  Park  Benjamin  — 
editor,  poet,  and  lecturer  —  read  law,  wrote  two 
unsuccessful  novels,  and  could  not  decide  what 
next. 

Finally,  some  historical  sketches  delighting  his 
friends,  they  urged  him  to  continue  them,  and  at  last 
he  concluded  to  become  a  historian.  He  looked 
about  for  a  field  not  already  pre-empted,  and  the 
story  of  plucky  Holland  appealed  to  him,  and  how 
this  small  determined  nation  had  won  her  freedom, 
against  tremendous  odds,  from  aggressive  Spain. 

166 


MOTLEY   AND    PARKMAN 

He  made  three  divisions  of  this  text:  First,  "  The 
Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic";  Second,  "  The  His- 
tory of  the  United  Netherlands";  Third,  "The 
History  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War."  He  did  not 
live  to  finish  the  third,  but  was  working  on  "  John  of 
Barneveld,  Advocate,"  when  he  died. 

The  Netherlands,  at  that  time,  formed  a  subject 
comparatively  sealed  to  the  outside  world,  and  Mot- 
ley went  abroad  to  study,  and  followed  his  quest 
from  country  to  country;  and  owing  to  the  courtesy 
of  the  Queen  of  Holland,  and  the  liberality  of  many 
governments,  archives  buried  for  centuries  were 
freely  thrown  open,  and  he  spent  years  in  just  poring 
over  them. 

He  found  a  key  to  State  secrets,  and  read  "  the 
bribings  and  the  windings  "  of  old  despots,  who  had 
previously  appeared  only  on  State  occasions;  and  he 
said  one  day:  "I  remain  among  my  fellow-worms, 
feeding  on  their  musty  mulberry  leaves,  out  of  which 
we  are  afterward  to  spin  our  silk."  The  deeper  he 
went,  the  more  fascinated  he  grew,  until  he  called 
himself  a  perfect  stranger  in  the  modern  world  — 
and  felt  that  if  he  might  only  appear  in  the  sixteenth 
century,  he  would  find  himself  on  terms  of  intimacy 
with  the  leading  men  of  that  age;  and  it  was  not  until 
he  was  fully  in  touch  with  his  subject  that  he  began 
to  write. 

And  how  quaintly  he  describes  that  sturdy  little 
land  — 

167 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  That  rides  at  anchor  and  is  moored, 
In  which  they  do  not  live  but  go  aboard  " ; 

and  in  what  eloquent  language  he  paints  her  desper- 
ate struggle  for  civil  and  religious  liberty.  There 
are  vignettes  of  bigoted  Philip  Second,  inconstant 
Queen  Elizabeth,  and  William  "  the  Liberator," 
whose  motto  even  in  those  tumultuous  days  was: 
"  Always  tranquil  amid  the  waves  " —  and  who, 
though  a  most  genial  man,  became  William,  "  the 
Silent,"  because  with  rare  sagacity,  he  knew  when 
not  to  speak ! 

The  volumes  are  full  of  dramatic  scenes  in  this  age 
when  intrigue  and  assassination  were  shadowed 
everywhere.  There  is  the  tale  of  Margaret  of 
Parma  and  the  Beggars;  the  depicting  of  stern,  cruel 
battles;  the  defence  of  beautiful  Leyden  with  its 
orchards  and  gardens  and  pigeons,  and  its  he- 
roic rescue  by  "  The  Beggars  of  the  Sea."  Motley 
does  not  close  his  narrative,  till  Holland  has 
achieved  absolute  independence.  Truly,  he  swept 
"  The  black  past  like  Van  Tromp  with  his 
broom  " ! 

Freedom  and  art  grew  together  in  Holland,  and 
in  visiting  this  picturesque  land  we  see  how  the 
Dutch  painters  of  its  "  Golden  Age  "  have  pefpetu- 
ated  her  victory  on  the  walls  of  her  galleries;  and  in 
reading  Motley's  word-pictures  painted,  too,  with 
minute  detail,  we  find  that  he,  also,  has  perpetuated 

1 68 


MOTLEY   AND   PARKMAN 

the  story  of  liberty  and  made  the  Dutch  museum  as 
interesting  as  the  galleries. 

Motley  was  himself  such  a  lover  of  freedom  that 
perhaps  his  principal  fault  as  a  historian  was,  that  he 
could  not  write  dispassionately;  but  his  books  read 
just  like  fiction  and  they  were  accorded  everywhere 
the  warmest  reception.  He  belonged  to  the  "  Satur- 
day Club,"  with  Emerson  and  Hawthorne  and 
Lowell  and  Whipple  and  Whittier  and  Agassiz  and 
Irving  and  Prescott  and  Bancroft  and  Holmes;  and 
in  1857,  when  he  was  leaving  for  England,  the  mem- 
bers came  together  to  bid  him  farewell,  and  the  last 
lines  of  the  "  Parting  Health  "  written  by  Holmes 
were :  — 

"  The  true  Knight  of  Learning,  the  world  holds  him  dear, 
Love  bless  him,  joy  crown  him,  God  speed  his  career!" 

Motley  several  times  received  the  honour  awarded 
to  many  of  our  literary  men  of  being  appointed  min- 
ister to  foreign  courts.  He  was  at  St.  Petersburg 
and  London,  and  during  the  whole  of  the  Civil  War, 
in  Vienna.  He  had  the  courtly  manners  and  con- 
versational gifts  that  would  be  his  passport  anywhere, 
but  for  some  reason,  he  was  not  always  successful  as 
a  diplomat.  He  may  have  been  indiscreet,  and  cer- 
tainly political  intrigues  were  formed  against  him. 

He  was  disappointed,  but  always  consoled  by  his 
social  and  scholarly  triumphs,  the  marked  courtesies 

£6* 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

shown  him  at  great  functions,  and  the  admiration 
expressed  by  Froude  and  Macaulay  and  other  men 
of  letters,  for  his  works.  He  lived  much  abroad, 
specially  during  the  later  years  of  his  life,  and  he 
died  in  England,  and  with  his  wife  is  buried  in  Kensal 
Green  Cemetery.  Bryant,  who  highly  regarded 
him,  wrote  a  sonnet  from  which  we  quote  this 
line : — 

"  Sleep,  Motley,  with  the  great  of  ancient  days!  " 

What  different  subjects  attract  different  historians! 
One  devotes  his  life  to  the  enthusiastic  study  of  his 
own  land;  another  glories  in  mighty  Spain;  while  a 
third  applauds  heroic  Holland,  in  wresting  herself 
from  the  grasp  and  aggressions  of  this  same  mighty 
Spain ;  and  Francis  Parkman  looks  off  upon  a  country 
of  forests  and  Indians  and  adventure,  of  French  and 
English  encounter,  and  resolves  to  centre  his  labours 
upon  such  themes.  He  was  drawn  to  them  even  as  a 
boy;  for  although  his  home  was  in  Boston,  as  he  was 
not  strong  he  was  sent  when  very  young  to  sojourn  at 
his  grandfather's  home  at  Medway,  then  on  the  edge 
of  a  vast  forest.  Here  he  learned  but  little  from 
books;  for  walking  to  school  through  the  woods,  he 
spent  most  of  his  time  in  making  the  acquaintance  of 
birds  and  squirrels  and  reptiles  and  insects,  and  in 
conjuring  all  kinds  of  savage  escapades.  Even  as 
a  sophomore  in  college,  his  purpose  was  fixed  to  be 
a  historian,  and  he  selected  the  subject  on  which  he 

170 


MOTLEY   AND    PARKMAN 

would  ever  afterwards  write,  and  he  never  wavered. 

His  general  topic  was  "  France  and  England  in 
North  America,"  and  it  ranged  from  the  period  of 
early  French  settlement  in  the  New  World  and  the 
alliance  with  the  Indians,  to  the  victories  of  the  Eng- 
lish over  these  French  and  Indian  allies.  There  are 
eight  volumes.  As  a  preparation,  Motley  spent  his 
college  vacations  in  tramps  in  Adirondack  and 
Canadian  forests;  he  was  sent  to  Europe  for  his 
health,  and  in  Rome  lodged  in  a  monastery,  to  dis- 
cover the  character  of  the  Jesuit  priests  and  their 
mission.  He  searched  thoroughly  everywhere,  as  we 
have  seen,  for  whatever  might  be  introduced  in  his 
writings. 

Then,  in  1846,  with  a  friend  he  travelled  West 
over  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  study  the  Indian  at 
first-hand.  He  met  many  tribes  and  visited  nearly 
every  spot  which  he  later  described.  Always  armed 
and  on  the  watch,  he  camped  for  months  with  the 
Sioux,  joining  their  feast  or  war-hunt  or  ceremonial, 
or  defiling  with  the  wild  cavalcade  through  the 
gorges.  Thus  he  gained  insight  into  the  character 
of  the  olden  day  savage,  with  his  bow  and  arrow  and 
paint  and  embroidery  and  war-plumes  and  fluttering 
trophies.  No  wonder  that  to  Parkman  is  given  the 
palm  of  a  masterly  treatment  of  the  "  Red  Man." 

But  exposure  weakened  a  constitution  that  was 
never  strong;  wigwam,  smoke,  and  sunlight  so  in- 
jured his  eyes  that  he  was  threatened  with  total 

171 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

blindness;  and  when  he  left  the  Western  land,  his 
health  was  impaired  for  life.  For  long,  he  was  not 
allowed  to  work  at  all,  and  finally  only  permitted  to 
use  his  eyes  every  other  minute,  for  two  or  three 
hours  daily.  In  1849,  by  means  of  dictation,  he  was 
able  to  publish  his  "  Oregon  Trail  " —  the  history 
of  his  own  trip  —  and  a  thrilling  resume  of  out-door 
experiences. 

And  Parkman  rose  above  every  obstacle.  He 
visited  the  European  libraries  several  times  to  collect 
copies  of  valuable  manuscripts.  He  learned  to  em- 
ploy a  "  literary  gridiron,"  a  frame  of  parallel  wires, 
laid  on  the  paper  to  guide  his  hand.  Like  Prescott, 
he  worked  slowly  and  laboriously;  but  like  Prescott, 
his  pages  grew  to  chapters,  and  his  chapters  grew 
in  time  to  eight  completed  volumes  —  a  library  of 
captivating  diversion  to  the  youth  of  to-day. 

Parkman  is  not  stately  like  Prescott,  nor  eloquent 
like  Motley;  but  his  work  is  graphic  and  philosophi- 
cal, and  while  illumined  with  the  romance  of  early 
adventure,  it  is  inspired  with  the  spirit  of  modern 
action. 

Parkman  toiled  diligently  until  he  was  seventy 
years  old  —  almost  his  whole  life.  His  admirers 
call  him  "  the  youngest  of  our  quartette  —  our  finest 
historian."  Who  may  decide? 

John  Fiske,  in  one  of  his  eloquent  lectures,  once 
alluded  to  "  Pontiac  and  His  Companions  "  as  "  one 
of  the  most  brilliant  and  fascinating  books  that  had 

172 


MOTLEY   AND   PARKMAN 

been  written  by  any  historian  since  the  days  of  Herod 
otus."  The  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth 
when  he  caught  sight  of  Parkman  in  the  audience, 
and  he  said:  — 

"  I  never  shall  forget  the  sudden  start  he  gave,  the 
heightened  colour  on  his  noble  face,  and  its  curious  look  of 
surprise  and  pleasure,  an  expression  as  honest  and  simple 
as  one  might  see  in  a  school-boy  suddenly  singled  out  for 
praise." 

In  his  quiet  home,  in  Chestnut  Street,  Boston, 
Parkman  lived  much  in  his  library,  surrounded  by 
books,  Indian  relics,  Barye  statuettes,  and  pictures  of 
his  favourite  cats.  His  children,  after  the  death  of 
their  mother,  had  gone  to  live  with  their  aunt,  and 
he  enjoyed  their  frequent  visits,  and  later  those  of 
his  wonderful  grandchildren.  Always  suffering, 
he  showed  astonishing  self-mastery;  he  so  liked  to 
have  his  sister  read  a  good  story  aloud,  and  often 
used  family  jokes  and  nonsense  to  conceal  his  real 
pain. 

His  summer  home,  at  Jamaica  Plains,  was  an 
ideally  beautiful  one.  He  was  as  fond  of  roses  as 
Bancroft.  He  cultivated  flowers  and  wrote  a  book 
about  them,  maintaining  that  gardening  had  saved 
his  life.  He  was  devoted  to  rowing,  and  here  on 
the  border  of  the  lake  where  he  used  to  moor  his 
boat,  a  memorial  has  been  raised  in  his  honour, 
adorned  with  the  "  Spirit  of  the  Woods  " — and  Dr. 

173 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Holmes   added  another  memorial  in  the  following 
stanzas :  — 

"  He  told  the  red  man's  story ;  far  and  wide 

He  searched  the  unwritten  records  of  his  race; 
He  sat  a  listener  at  the  Sachem's  side, 

He  tracked  the  hunter  through  his  wild-wood  chase. 

"High  o'er  his  head  the  soaring  eagle  screamed; 

The  wolf's  long  howl  rang  nightly  through  the  vale; 
Tramped  the  lone  bear;  the  panther's  eye-balls  gleamed; 
The  bison's  gallop  thundered  on  the  gale. 

"  Soon  o'er  the  horizon  rose  the  cloud  of  strife  — 

Two  proud,   strong  nations  battling   for  the  prize  — 
Which  swarming  host  should  mould  a  nation's  life, 
Which  royal  banner  flaunt  the  Western  skies. 

"  Long  raged  the  conflict ;  on  the  crimson  sod 

Native  and  alien  joined  their  hosts  in  vain  — 
The  lilies  withered  where  the  lion  trod, 

Till  peace  lay  panting  on  the  ravaged  plain." 


174 


XX 

NEW  INFLUENCES  IN  PURITAN  NEW  ENGLAND 

PURITANISM  that  had  made  New  England  famous 
as  a  literary  centre  held  sway  there  until  about  a 
hundred  years  ago;  but  its  views  were  such  that  it 
did  little  towards  bringing  about  a  broader  culture, 
even  though  Franklin  was  doing  much  for  Philadel- 
phia, and  New  York  was  enjoying  her  "  Knicker- 
bocker Group.*'  But  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
there  came  to  New  England  a  marked  spiritual  and 
intellectual  awakening  —  a  "  Golden  Age  "  of  liter- 
ature which  centred  in  Concord  and  Boston.  This 
was  the  result  of  many  influences. 

As  the  United  States  claimed  independence,  new 
social  and  political  views  were  agitated.  There 
was  the  abolitionist  movement;  newspapers  multi- 
plied; the  Kantean  philosophy  was  imported  from 
Germany,  and  books  on  free  thought  from  England. 
Then  William  Ellery  Channing,  a  devout  and  elo- 
quent preacher  in  Boston,  led  the  Unitarian  move- 
ment, in  a  belief  that  insisted  on  more  liberal  reli- 
gious thought. 

By  the  Puritan,  literature  and  a  love  for  beauty 
had  been  frowned  upon,  because  they  had  drawn  the 
attention  from  matters  of  greater  religious  moment 

175 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

—  and  now  these  very  things  were  considered  help- 
ful to  religious  life;  for  as  Emerson  says  in  his 
"Rhodora":  — 

".     ...     if  eyes  were  made  for  seeing, 
Then  Beauty  is  its  own  excuse  for  being," 

and  culture  of  all  kinds  became  fashionable. 

And  now,  too,  Transcendentalism  comes  to  the 
front  —  a  vague  theory  that  in  its  day  had  such 
powerful  followers  that  we  may  not  pass  it  by, 
though  what  it  ever  accomplished  remains  a  problem ! 

And  first  the  word  "  transcendental  ";  its  direct 
meaning  is  "  a  speculating  on  matters  which  tran- 
scend the  range  of  human  intellect,  even  until  these 
become  the  motives  that  govern  our  lives."  It  is 
a  gospel  alike  of  free-thinking  and  individualism  — 
all  to  be  strengthened  by  communion  with  Nature. 
It  included  enthusiastic  study  of  many  "isms": 
among  them,  idealism,  liberalism,  individualism, 
Unitarianism  —  and  as  to  patriotism,  it  made  the 
strongest  kind  of  protest  against  slavery.  Lowell 
said  that  in  it,  "  Everybody  had  a  chance  to  attend 
to  everybody  else's  business." 

Communities  were  established  where  everything 
was  common  —  but  common  sense!  Some  would 
not  eat  meat  and  preached  a  "  potato  gospel  ";  others 
gave  up  flour;  while  yet  others  were  confident  that 
there  would  be  an  instant  millennium  as  soon  as  hooks 

176 


INFLUENCES   IN   NEW   ENGLAND 

and  eyes  should  be  substituted  for  buttons!  There 
were  discussions  and  conversations,  led  by  Calvinists, 
Unitarians,  abolitionists,  and  cranks !  "  The  Dial  " 
was  the  organ  of  the  club,  and  its  first  editor  was  the 
eccentric  prophetess,  Margaret  Fuller. 

She  was  a  clever  woman  who  had  studied  Latin 
at  six,  read  Shakespeare  at  eight,  and  at  twenty-two 
had  covered  the  range  of  modern  literature.  A 
brilliant  conversationalist,  her  words  were  said  to 
irradiate  any  subject.  Emerson  called  her:  "The 
pivotal  mind  in  modern  literature." 

She  had  firm  faith  in  demonology,  always  imagin- 
ing that  she  was  being  moved  by  some  mysterious, 
fateful  power.  Although  an  ardent  student  of 
Goethe,  she  heartily  interested  herself  for  a  time  in 
the  Transcendental  movement.  For  two  years,  she 
struggled  to  make  "  The  Dial  "  a  success,  and  then 
renounced  to  Emerson  its  editorship. 

Under  Horace  Greeley,  she  next  went  to  New 
York  as  a  critic  on  "The  Tribune."  Then  she 
journeyed  abroad  and  met  Carlyle  in  England. 
Her  next  prominent  move  was  made  in  Italy,  where, 
like  Mrs.  Browning,  she  threw  herself  with  burning 
zeal  into  the  struggle  for  "  Italy  free !  "  Here  she 
secretly  married  D'Ossoli,  a  friend  of  Mazzini's. 
In  1850,  she  was  returning  to  America  with  her  hus- 
band and  child,  bringing  a  manuscript  which  she 
had  written  on  the  Italian  Revolution,  and  the  family 
was  shipwrecked  off  Fire  Island. 

177 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  leading  apostle  of  Transcendentalism  was 
Amos  Bronson  Alcott  of  Concord  —  a  man  so  satu- 
rated with  theories  that  he  never  could  descend  to 
assist  his  household  in  their  heroic  efforts  for  daily 
bread.  Upon  a  side  hill  near  his  home  a  chapel  was 
built  where  his  "  School  of  Philosophy  "  was  estab- 
lished. Louisa  Alcott  wrote :  — 

"  The  town  swarms  with  budding  philosophers  and  they 
roost  on  our  steps  like  hens  waiting  for  corn." 

But  in  the  chapel  gathered  philosophers  from  all 
the  world  over  to  take  part  in  weighty  arguments, 
and  to  listen  to  Dr.  Alcott's  sublime  "  Conversa- 
tions." The  school  continued  from  1878  until  1888 

—  its  closing  service  being  a  memorial  to  Dr.  Alcott 
who  had  died  a  short  time  before.     Others  inter- 
ested were  Dr.  Channing,  Dr.  Parker,  Dr.  Ripley, 
James  Freeman  Clarke,  Emerson,  and  Elizabeth  Pea- 
body.     Some  were  visionary  —  some  were  practical 

—  but  all  were  united  in  enthusiasm  for  "  plain  living 
and  high  thinking." 

Another  expression  of  modern  thought  was  mani- 
fested in  the  "  Brook  Farm  Social  Settlement,"  at 
West  Roxbury.  This  was  founded  by  about  twenty 
eager  intellects  under  the  leadership  of  Dr.  Ripley,  a 
Unitarian  clergyman,  who  later  was  an  editor.  The 
number  of  members  increased  to  nearly  two  hundred. 
Among  the  chosen  spirits  were  Hawthorne,  and  the 


INFLUENCES   IN   NEW   ENGLAND 

graceful  essayist  and  magazine-writer,  George  Wil- 
liam Curtis.  The  text  of  the  community  was:  "To 
live  on  the  faculties  of  the  soul."  There  were  to 
be  at  the  same  time  plenty  of  work  and  plenty  of 
leisure.  But  many  of  the  members  knew  nothing 
about  agriculture,  and  after  ten  hours  of  daily  labour, 
they  were  not  alert  to  "  soul  thought." 

After  several  years,  the  principal  building  which 
had  cost  ten  thousand  dollars  was  burned,  and  Brook 
Farm  went  to  pieces  for  financial  reasons.  How- 
ever, out  of  all  the  influences  that  were  at  work,  a 
vital  note  was  struck  for  intellectual  and  spiritual 
freedom,  and  it  became  insistent  in  the  lives  of  the 
authors  about  whom  we  are  now  to  speak. 


179 


XXI 

RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

RALPH  WALDO  EMERSON  was  the  most  famous  of 
the  Transcendentalists,  and  in  his  day,  America's 
greatest  philosopher;  and  he  came  naturally  by  his 
learning,  for  he  had  an  ancestry  of  seven  or  eight 
generations  of  preachers.  The  father,  a  scholarly 
man,  was  settled  over  a  Boston  parish  when  Ralph 
was  born,  and  although  the  child  was  sent  almost  at 
once  to  a  dame's  school,  his  father  deplored  that,  at 
three,  he  could  not  read  very  well!  The  little  fel- 
low was  extremely  gentle,  and  we  may  imagine  that 
he  was  inculcated  with  high  moral  standards. 

N.  P.  Willis,  the  poet,  however,  who  used  to  see 
him  playing  on  the  street  has  the  audacity  to  call  him : 
"  One  of  those  pale  little  moral-sublimes,  with 
turned-over  shirt-collar,  who  were  recognised  by 
Boston  school-boys  as  having  fathers  that  are  Uni- 
tarians! " 

Ralph  was  but  eight  when  his  father  died,  and 
he  always  remembered  with  pride  the  stately  funeral, 
at  which  the  "Ancient  and  Honourable  Artillery" 
escorted  the  body  of  their  late  chaplain  to  the  grave; 
and  the  child  had  other  memories,  too,  and  these 
were  of  poverty  and  self-denial  —  of  sharing  his 

1 80 


RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882)' 

brother's  overcoat  so  that  in  winter  he  could  go  to 
school  only  on  alternate  days;  or  how  sometimes 
when  the  children  were  hungry,  the  mother  enter- 
tained them  with  traditions  of  their  heroic  ancestors. 

She  was  a  woman  of  highest  ideals,  this  mother; 
the  church  honoured  her  and  helped  her  a  little,  but 
even  so  the  way  was  difficult.  And  there  was,  also, 
Spartan-like  Aunt  Mary,  who  always  held  with  the 
mother  that  the  boys  were  born  to  be  educated;  and 
she  urged  them  on  with  such  inspiring  phrases  as 
these:  "Scorn  trifles" — "  Always  do  what  you  are 
afraid  to  do!  " 

When  Ralph  was  eleven,  Dr.  Ezra  Ripley,  pastor 
over  the  church  at  Concord,  took  his  step-son's 
widow  and  children  to  live  with  him  there  in  the 
storied  "  Old  Manse."  It  was  in  this  home  that 
Ralph's  grandfather,  the  militant  preacher,  had 
lived;  and  it  was  Ralph  who  wrote  later  the  poem 
read  at  the  anniversary  of  the  fight.  This  poem  is 
really  almost  as  famous  as  the  fight;  for  it  contains 
the  following  immortal  lines  which  are  emblazoned 
on  the  "  Minute-man  "  :  — 

"By  the  rude  bridge  that  arched  the  flood, 

Their  flag  to  April's  breeze  unfurled, 
'Here  once  the  embattled  farmers  stood, 
And  fired  the  shot  heard  round  the  world !  " 

The  Emerson  family  remained  but  a  few  years 
in  Concord,  and  on  their  return  to  Boston,  Mrs. 

181 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Emerson  took  boarders,  and  Dr.  Ripley  sent  her  a 
cow  which  Ralph  drove  to  pasture  through  what  is 
now  a  fashionable  part  of  the  city;  and  finally  the 
boys  did  enter  college,  through  the  Boston  Latin 
School,  and  Ralph  did  many  things  to  pay  his  ex- 
penses. He  carried  the  President's  official  messages; 
waited  on  table  at  commons;  declaimed  on  occasion; 
wrote  themes  for  other  fellows;  and  tutored  in  vaca- 
tion. Once  he  actually  sent  his  mother  five,  dollars 
to  buy  a  shawl,  but  it  went  to  pay  the  butcher's  bill. 

He  graduated  at  eighteen,  and  with  what  courage 
he  would  have  walked  forth  could  he  have  foreseen 
that  to-day  u  Emerson  Hall,"  in  Harvard,  attests  to 
the  honour  in  which  his  life-work  is  held.  Until  his 
graduation,  he  had  always  been  "  Ralph";  now  he 
announced  that  he  would  prefer  to  be  called 
"  Waldo."  He  aided  his  brother  in  one  young 
ladies'  school  in  Boston,  and  then  was  usher  in  an- 
other. Some  of  the  girls  were  older  than  he,  and 
they  did  like  to  make  him  blush ;  but  they  dared  not 
take  any  real  liberties  with  his  youth,  for  he  had 
such  a  scholarly  mien  and  carried  himself  with  such 
dignity. 

Later  his  brother  went  to  Gottingen,  and  Waldo 
entered  the  Divinity  School,  at  Cambridge.  He 
quite  naturally  slipped  into  the  ancestral  profession 
in  those  days  when  over  forty  per  cent,  of  the  Har- 
vard graduates  studied  for  the  ministry.  The 
classical  scholar,  Edward  Everett,  was  not  only  his 

182 


RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

master  in  Greek,  but  had  much  to  do  in  shaping  his 
life  thought.  In  due  time,  Emerson  was  "  appro- 
bated "  to  preach,  and  he  was  at  first  the  assistant 
and  then  pastor  of  a  leading  Unitarian  church  in 
Boston.  He  also,  in  1829,  married  a  wife,  a  Miss 
Tucker,  who  proved  one  of  his  truest  inspirations. 
She,  however,  died  soon  afterwards,  leaving  her  hus- 
band an  annuity  of  twelve  hundred  dollars. 

It  was  during  these  years  that  Emerson's  views  on 
individuality  began  to  assert  themselves  —  views  in- 
.fluenced  by  the  free  thought  that  had  been  imported 
in  German  and  English  books.  He  adopted  the 
motto:  "  Be  bold,  be  free,  be  true,  be  right,  else  you 
will  be  enslaved  cowards."  The  rites  of  his  church 
hampered  him,  for  more  and  more  he  believed  in 
spirit  not  in  form.  "  Religion  is  obsolete,"  he 
claimed,  "  when  lives  do  not  proceed  from  it" 
Finally  he  resigned  both  pastorate  and  ministry,  and 
his  health  giving  way,  he  sailed,  in  1832,  on  a  brig 
for  Europe,  then  a  month  distant  from  our  land. 

It  was  to  be  a  scholarly  pilgrimage;  he  was  de- 
sirous to  meet  in  the  flesh  Wordsworth  whose  Nature 
teachings  had  interested  him,  and  Carlyle,  "  the  gun 
of  guns  "  for  depth,  and  he  had  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing not  only  these  but  many  other  authors.  He 
found  Carlyle  buried  among  his  Scottish  moors,  and 
their  chance  for  acquaintance  was  a  white  day  in  both 
lives.  Carlyle  called  Emerson  "  one  of  the  most 
lovable  creatures'1  he  "had  ever  looked  upon"; 

183 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and  Emerson  was  one  of  the  first  to  hail  Carlyle,  and 
he  made  his  works  known  here  almost  before  they 
were  abroad. 

On  Emerson's  return,  he  determined  to  devote 
his  whole  future  to  literature,  and  he  made  his  home 
in  Concord,  which  is  situated  in  a  level  country  like 
Warwickshire;  it  has  a  winding  river  like  the  Avon, 
and  besides  it  was  near  the  stage  route  to  Boston 
Emerson  said  of  it  that  it  had  "  no  seaport,  no  cotton, 
no  shoe  trade,  no  water-power,  neither  gold,  lead, 
coal,  oil,  or  marble."  But  he  would  do  with  it  what 
Agassiz  was  doing  with  the  Harvard  Museum,  make 
it  a  shrine  that  all  Europeans  must  visit.  And  "  The 
Sage  of  Concord  "  succeeded  in  converting  the  town 
into  a  literary  Mecca;  for  was  it  not  the  cherished 
home  of  Hawthorne  and  Thoreau  and  the  Alcotts 
and  Channing  and  Sanborn,  and  others  associated 
with  our  literature? 

In  1836,  Emerson  was  married  again  —  this  time 
to  Lydia  Jackson  of  Plymouth;  and  the  wedding- 
journey  was  the  chaise-ride  from  Plymouth  up  to 
Concord.  He  purchased  a  farm,  but  did  not  realise 
until  later  what  a  bargain  he  had  made  in  blue-birds, 
bobolinks  and  thrushes — -in  sunrises  and  sunsets. 
The  large  square  house  was  "  stocked  with  books  and 
papers  and  as  many  friends  as  possible.'1  Its  host's 
welcoming  motto  was:  "  Any  one  that  knocks  at  my 
door  shall  have  my  attention."  An  old-fashioned 
flower-garden  shortly  displayed  itself,  for  Emerson 

184 


RALPH   WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

found,  after  he  married,  that  though  he  planted  corn 
ever  so  often,  it  was  sure  to  come  up  tulips." 

A  man  of  simple,  sturdy  habits,  he  believed  in 
manual  labour.  "  My  own  right  hand  my  cup- 
bearer shall  be,"  he  asserted,  and  he  could  do  almost 
anything  except  handle  tools;  with  these  he  was  so 
awkward  that  little  Waldo,  one  day  as  he  watched 
him  digging,  exclaimed:  "  Papa,  I  am  afraid  you 
will  dig  your  leg!  " 

And  Emerson  walked  very  pleasantly  with  the 
towns-people,  interesting  many  in  his  views  about 
"  plain  living  and  high  thinking."  He  was  de- 
lighted with  his  pupil  Thoreau,  who  was  for  two 
years  an  inmate  in  his  home,  and  who  was  so  ingen- 
ious that  he  made  himself  most  useful  in  both  house 
and  garden.  Then  there  was  the  dreamy,  profound 
Dr.  Alcott,  who  lived  over  the  way,  and  Hawthorne 
whom  he  often  encountered  in  the  woodsy  path. 
And  a  special  attraction  was  added  in  the  clear-eyed 
girls  and  manly  boys  of  the  town,  and  he  called  the 
latter  "  masters  of  the  play-ground  and  the  street." 

He  tried  to  help  them  as  he  walked  among  them, 
with  sentiments  of  right  thinking,  brave  speech,  and 
cheerful  work.  He  was  uneasy  at  the  number  of 
books  that  were  appearing  to  divert  them  from  the 
standard  authors  that  he  had  loved.  He  begged 
them  to  be  moderate  in  all  things;  to  beware  of  the 
words  "intense"  and  ''exquisite";  and  in  writing 
to  avoid  italics. 

185 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  Lecture  Lyceums  "  were  now  being  organised 
in  different  parts  of  New  England,  and  Emerson 
not  only  wrote  but  made  the  platform  his  "  free 
pulpit,"  and  young  people  greatly  liked  to  hear  him 
lecture.  The  youthful  Higginson  and  Lowell,  for 
example,  very  often  could  not  understand  what  he 
was  talking  about  —  but  they  went  again  and  again 
— "  not  to  hear  what  Emerson  said  but  to  hear 
Emerson."  "Were  we  enthusiasts?"  Lowell  says. 
"  I  hope  and  believe  we  were,  and  am  thankful  to 
the  man  who  made  us  worth  something  for  once  in 
our  lives." 

The  corner-stone  to  Emerson's  fame  was  the 
oration,  "  The  American  Scholar,"  which  he  de- 
livered in  1837,  before  the  "  Phi  Beta  Kappa  So- 
ciety,"  at  Harvard.  He  had  been  deemed  a  preacher 
of  mysticism,  and  was  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  ex- 
press his  practical  ideas.  In  the  oration,  he  urged 
the  young  men  of  Puritan  New  England  to  individu- 
alism, self-reliance,  sincerity,  and  courage,  and  above 
all  to  cultivate  soul  freedom:  "  We  will  walk  on 
our  own  feet;  we  will  work  with  our  own  hands;  we 
will  speak  our  own  minds."  Daring  words  these  I 
and  an  eager  crowd  listened  breathlessly  to  this  new 
voice. 

Holmes  styled  the  oration  "  our  intellectual  Dec- 
laration of  Independence,"  and  said  that  the  young 
men  went  out  from  it  as  if  a  prophet  had  been  de- 
claiming: "Thus  saith  the  Lord."  Carlyle,  after 

1 86 


RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

reading  it,  wrote  to  Emerson :  "  You  are  a  new  era, 
my  man,  in  your  huge  country."  And  from  this 
time  until  nearly  the  end  of  his  life,  Emerson  deliv- 
ered lectures  all  over  the  United  States  and  Europe; 
but  never  a  one  was  so  logical  as  this  that  took  Cam- 
bridge by  storm  and  caused  great  unrest. 

Another  stepping-stone  to  Emerson's  fame  was  his 
"  Essay  on  Nature,"  which  was  a  text  for  his  future 
philosophy.  It  was  written  in  the  "  Old  Manse," 
at  Concord,  not  long  before  he  established  his  home 
there,  and  was  published  in  book  form,  in  1839.  ^ 
is  full  of  descriptive  passages  and  his  aim  in  this  is 
to  set  forth  his  idealistic  philosophy,  proving  that  the 
beauty  of  the  universe  belongs  to  every  individual 
who  will  lay  claim  to  it,  and  that  through  communion 
with  Nature,  we  may  feel  in  us  the  presence  of  the 
God  of  Nature,  and  free  ourselves  from  the  tyranny 
of  materialisation. 

Though  Emerson  had  not  the  heart-love  of  a 
Burns  or  a  Bryant,  he  was  really  very  fond  of  Nature. 
He  studied  in  the  dreamy  woods,  where  he  heard 
wandering  voices  in  the  air  and  whispers  in  the 
breeze.  Another  delight  was  to  get  into  the  little 
boat  moored  in  the  river  just  back  of  his  house,  and 
with  one  stroke  of  the  paddle  pass  from  the  world 
into  the  serene  realm  of  sunset  and  moonlight. 

Emerson  jotted  down  everything  in  his  journal 
which  he  always  carried,  naming  it  his  "  savings- 
bank."  Apart  from  a  memorial  to  Margaret  Fuller, 

187 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

his  writings  were  mostly  essays,  and  these  were 
largely  from  the  striking  passages  in  his  lectures,  and 
sometimes  he  would  spend  years  in  stringing  together 
selections  from  one  of  them.  His  constant  habit, 
in  composing  either  prose  or  poetry,  was  to  think  out 
each  sentence  or  line  without  regard  to  what  was  to 
follow  —  so  his  writings  are  rather  collections  of 
proverbs  than  smooth,  harmonious  pages.  But 
what  other  man  has  created  such  living  epigrams  for 
a  nation ! 

Plato  was  always  his  master;  and  like  his  master, 
he  strove  to  think  deep  and  high.  Sometimes  he 
would  wander  so  far  away  that  he  found  it  difficult 
to  explain  his  own  philosophy.  At  least  once  when 
he  was  asked  to  make  clear  a  somewhat  obscure  pas- 
sage, he  was  forced  —  like  Robert  Browning  under 
the  same  circumstances  —  to  confess  that  he  did  not 
know  what  he  meant,  saying:  "  I  suppose  that  I  felt 
that  way  when  I  wrote  it." 

His  essays  appeared  in  series,  1841-1 878  j — and 
readers  do  not  agree  as  to  which  are  best;  but  among 
the  most  helpful  are  "  Compensation,"  "  Friend- 
ship," "  Self-reliance,"  "  Books,"  "  Society  and  Soli- 
tude," and  "  Considerations  by  the  Way."  His 
prose  in  his  day  overshadowed  his  poetry,  and  we 
do  not  know  now  which  will  abide  the  longer.  The 
poetry,  also,  was  full  of  high  theories  and  Nature 
was  prominent.  There  are  many  good  lines  and 
some  holding  ones. 

188 


RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

Emerson  had  his  ideal,  and  he  knew  that  he  fell 
short  of  it.  Many  think  that  his  "  Humble-Bee  " 
is  his  most  exquisite  poem :  — 

"  Burly,  dozing  humble-bee ! 
Zigzag  steerer,  desert  cheerer, 

Yellow-breeched  philosopher." 

He  shows  patriotism  in  "The  Volunteers";  his 
Nature  sympathy  in  "The  Woodnotes";  his  reli- 
gious outlook  in  "  The  Problem  ";  and  his  grief  for 
his  boy  Waldo,  who  died  at  five,  in  "  Threnody." 
And  there  are  in  his  two  volumes  of  poetry  many 
rare  gems  of  hopeful,  uplifting  thought.  Indeed, 
he  has  sometimes  been  called  "  Optimist  of  Opti- 
mists." 

Emerson  is  to-day  read  by  the  few,  for  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  mind  seeks  definiteness  and  his  new  reasoning 
is  not  fully  interpreted.  His  work  is  a  curious  com- 
bination of  common  sense  and  mysticism.  His 
views  of  the  whence  and  the  wherefore  seem  like 
those  of  the  Orientals,  nebulous  and  problematical. 
He  is  frequently  styled  "  The  Buddha  of  the 
West " —  and  he  was  likewise  "  A  soaring  nature 
ballasted  with  sense." 

His  son,  Dr.  Emerson,  seldom  presumed  to  ask  a 
very  serious  question.  He  says:  "  I  ventured  to  ask 
my  father  what  he  thought  about  immortality  —  and 

189 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

this  was  the  answer :  '  I  think  we  may  be  sure  that 
whatever  may  come  after  death,  no  one  will  be  dis- 
appointed/ ' 

In  1847,  Emerson  visited  Europe  for  the  second 
time  in  a  literary  tour,  and  his  lecture,  "  Representa- 
tive Men,"  was  a  marked  success,  and  this  furnished 
material  for  a  volume,  in  1850.  He  spent  four  days 
with  Carlyle,  and  he  describes  his  talk  as  "  like  a 
river,  full  and  never  ceasing."  Among  others  that 
he  met  were  De  Quincey,  Macaulay,  Thackeray, 
Tennyson,  and  George  Eliot.  The  latter  rejoiced 
that  in  Emerson  she  beheld  a  man!  He  saw  Paris 
in  the  throes  of  the  Revolution  of  '48.  He  must 
have  been  held  in  high  repute  in  England,  for  on 
his  return,  he  was  nominated  to  the  Rectorship  of 
Glasgow  University,  receiving  five  hundred  votes 
against  Lord  Beaconsfield's  seven  hundred. 

Coming  back  to  America,  he  settled  down  again 
in  his  Concord  home,  and  as  the  years  rolled  on,  his 
character  grew  more  and  more  tranquil.  He  was 
interested  in  the  schools  and  reading-room  and  be- 
longed to  the  fire-brigade.  He  advised  the  farmers 
and  traders  on  philosophical  subjects,  and  always  ob- 
served the  old-time  road  custom  of  salutation  to 
passers-by. 

Emerson  had  no  skill  in  debate,  but  from  principle 
attended  political  meetings.  He  was  in  spirit  an 
abolitionist  but  he  ranked  brotherhood  above  patriot- 
ism. Concord,  with  both  war  and  literary  associa- 

190 


RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

tions,  had  many  "  high  days,"  and  Emerson  was 
constantly  asked  to  speak  at  such  celebrations. 

One  of  the  special  town  interests  was  a  "  Circle  of 
Twenty-five/7  that  met  on  Monday  evenings,  in  his 
library;  and  here  as  one  has  said:  "  Emerson  sought 
to  bind  all  the  wide-flying  embroidery  of  discussion 
into  a  web  of  clear,  good  sense."  "  The  Circle  " 
still  exists ;  and  some  of  the  older  ones  yet  remember 
the  day  when  it  numbered  among  its  members  sub- 
lime Dr.  Alcott,  Ellery  Channing,  Thoreau,  and 
Hawthorne  who  sat  apart  and  and  rarely  spoke. 

In  1872,  Emerson's  house  caught  fire  and  was 
nearly  destroyed,  and  the  family  barely  escaped  with 
scant  clothing;  and  now  his  admiring  towns-people 
begged  him  to  take  his  devoted  daughter  Ellen  and 
go  abroad  until  all  should  be  restored ;  and  they  went, 
and  this  time  sailed  up  the  Nile.  Concord  prepared 
an  ovation  to  greet  the  home-coming  of  its  "  Sage." 
The  bells  rang  as  the  station  was  reached;  men,  wom- 
en and  children  thronged  to  welcome  him;  he  was 
taken  into  his  perfectly  renewed  house,  under  a 
triumphal  arch.  "  I  am  not  wood  or  stone,"  he  ex- 
claimed, but  he  could  say  only  a  few  words. 

And  now  as  Emerson  grew  older,  his  powers  of 
memory  began  to  fail.  John  Burroughs  —  our  be- 
loved poet-naturalist,  in  reminiscing  of  his  own  early 
days  writes:  — 

"  I  was  an  ardent  disciple  of  Emerson  and  I  wrote  sub- 
consciously in  Emersonian  style.  .  .  .  The  musk  of 

191 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Emerson  was  on  the  garments  of  all  of  us  young  men  who 
were  writing  at  that  time,  and  even  now  I  sometimes  get  a 
whiff  of  it  in  my  writings." 

Burroughs  met  Emerson  near  the  close  of  his  life 
and  said:  "  He  could  not  speak  to  us  for  his  mind 
was  breaking  down  and  he  was  losing  his  memory  of 
men  and  faces.  He  sat  there  silent,  with  a  wonder- 
ful look  in  his  deep,  far-seeing  astral  eyes." 

Whittier  took  me  up  to  introduce  me.  He  did 
not  remember  me.  Whittier  said:  "Thee  knows 
him !  "  but  when  I  started  to  ask  Emerson  about 
Thoreau,  he  seemed  to  understand,  for  he  beckoned 
to  a  common  friend  to  come  and  tell  me  about 
him. 

Finally,  on  April  twenty-seventh,  1882,  "  The  Con- 
cord Sage,"  sank  peacefully  to  rest,  and  he  was 
buried  near  Hawthorne,  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Ceme- 
tery; and  ever  the  pines  which  soothed  him  keep 
watch  over  his  unhewn  granite  boulder  on  the  hill- 
side. 

After  his  death,  his  son,  Dr.  Emerson,  one  of  the 
citizens  of  whom  Concord  proudly  boasts,  gave  Mr. 
Cabot  the  facts  and  incidents  of  his  father's  life, 
which  he  himself  wrote  for  neighbours  and  near 
friends ;  and  we  have  drawn  our  incidents  from  these 
memoirs  and  from  a  visit  to  the  home  of  the  great 
thinker.  The  library  is  just  as  he  left  it;  his  chair 
is  in  place  and  his  pen  and  inkstand  on  the  table; 

192 


RALPH   WALDO   EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

Michael  Angelo's  "Three  Fates"  over  the  mantel; 
and  on  the  shelves  gift-books  inscribed  with  the 
names  of  noted  authors. 

The  whole  house,  mounted  in  its  old  mahogany 
furniture,  with  art  treasures  and  pictures,  is  delight- 
fully reminiscent.  There  are  busts  of  Plato  and 
Goethe,  and  certainly  two  pictures  of  special  signifi- 
cance —  one  brought  to  Emerson  from  Europe  by 
Margaret  Fuller,  and  while  she  was  shipwrecked  it 
floated  ashore,  and  was  marked  with  his  name.  An- 
other, Guide's  "  Aurora,"  was  sent  by  Carlyle  as  a 
wedding  present  to  Mrs.  Emerson,  and  on  the  back 
we  read  in  the  donor's  writing :  — 

"It  is  my  wife's  memorial  to  your  wife.  Two  houses 
divided  by  wide  seas  are  to  understand  always  that  they  are 
united  nevertheless.  Will  the  lady  of  Concord  hang  up  the 
Italian  sun-chariot  somewhere  in  her  drawing-room,  and 
looking  at  it,  think  sometimes  of  a  household  here  which 
has  good  cause  never  to  forget  her?  " 

— T.   Carlyle. 

And  after  rambling  over  the  house,  one  must  not 
fail  to  lock  out  upon  the  same  pines  and  chestnuts, 
the  old-fashioned  garden,  and  the  woods  and  river, 
whence  came  many  inspirations. 

At  the  Emerson  "  Centenary,"  in  Concord,  in 
1903,  William  Lorenzo  Eaton,  superintendent  of 
public  schools,  made  an  address  before  the  pupils, 
in  which  he  said :  — 

193 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  Hitch  your  waggon  to  yonder  star,  and  with  him  travel 
into  unexplored  depths  of  space;  watch  the  birds  in  their 
flight  and  where  they  rest,  and  name  them  without  a 
gun.  .  .  . 

"  In  the  long  winter  evenings  when  mayhap  the  snow  is 
swirling  around  your  house,  and  shuts  you  from  the  outer 
world,  take  down  your  volume  of  Emerson,  and  in  '  a  tu- 
multuous privacy  of  storm '  read  and  think,  and  think  and 
read,  until  something  coming  to  you  out  of  that  great  spirit 
shall  have  moulded  your  lives  to  nobler  thoughts  and 
deeds." 

SELECTIONS  FROM  EMERSON 

"  O  tenderly  the  haughty  day 
Fills  his  blue  urn  with  fire." 
—  Concord  Ode. 

11  Hast  thou  named  all  the  birds  without  a  gun  ? 
Loved  the  wood-rose  and  left  it  on  its  stalk? 

0  be  my  friend,  and  teach  me  to  be  thine." 

—  Forbearance. 

"Life  is  too  short  to  waste 
In  critic  peep  or  cynic  bark, 
Quarrel  or  reprimand, 
'Twill  soon  be  dark." 

—  Tact. 

"  I  thought  the  sparrow's  note  from  heaven 
Singing  at  dawn  on  the  alder  bough; 

1  brought  him  home,  in  his  nest,  at  even; 
He  sings  the  song,  but  it  pleases  not  now; 

194 


RALPH    WALDO    EMERSON    (1803-1882) 

For  I  did  not  bring  home  the  river  and  sky; 
He  sang  to  my  ear  —  they  sang  to  my  eye." 

—  Each  and  AIL 

"  'Twas  one  of  the  charmed  days 

When  the  genius  of  God  doth  flow, 
The  wind  may  alter  twenty  ways, 

A  tempest  cannot  blow; 
It  may  blow  north,  it  still  is  warm; 

Or  south,  it  still  is  clear; 
Or  east,  it  smells  like  a  clover  farm; 
Or  west,  no  thunder  fear." 

—  Woodnotes. 

"The  Mountain  and  the  Squirrel 
Had  a  quarrel, 

And  the  former  called  the  latter  'Little  Prig!' 
Bun  replied, 

'  You  are  doubtless  very  big, 
But  all  sorts  of  things  and  weather 
Must  be  taken  in  together 
To  make  up  a  year, 
And  a  sphere; 
And  I  think  it  no  disgrace 
To  occupy  my  place; 
If  I'm  not  so  large  as  you, 
You  are  not  so  small  as  I, 
And  not  half  so  spry; 
I'll  not  deny  you  make 
A  very  pretty  squirrel  track. 
Talents  differ;  all  is  well  and  wisely  put; 
If  I  cannot  carry  forests  on  my  back, 
Neither  can  you  crack  a  nut.'  " 

—  Emerson. 

195 


XXII 

HENRY  DAVID  THOREAU    (1817-1862) 

ONE  of  the  Concord  group  held  fast  to  the  town  all 
through  life,  even  spending  his  travel  days  in  the 
woods,  and  on  near-by  streams.  This  was  Henry 
David  Thoreau,  who  was  born  here  in  1817.  The 
father  of  French  descent  was  a  small,  deaf,  unob- 
trusive man,  who  made  lead-pencils,  while  the 
mother,  daughter  of  a  New  England  clergyman,  was 
very  dressy  and  very  talkative. 

Thoreau's  delightful  biographer,  Frank  Sanborn, 
tells  of  her  such  a  characteristic  story  that  we  must 
insert  it  right  here:  One  day  when  Mrs.  Thoreau 
was  seventy  years  old,  she  called  upon  Miss  Mary 
Emerson,  the  austere  aunt  of  "  The  Sage,"  who  was 
then  eighty-four.  She  wore  a  bonnet  adorned  with 
bright  ribbons  of  goodly  length.  During  the  call 
Miss  Emerson  kept  her  eyes  closed,  and  when  her 
guest  rose  to  leave,  she  said:  "  Perhaps  you  noticed, 
Mrs.  Thoreau,  that  I  kept  my  eyes  closed  during  your 
call;  I  did  so  because  I  did  not  wish  to  look  on  the 
ribbons  you  are  wearing,  so  unsuitable  for  a  child  of 
God  and  a  person  of  your  age !  " 

Such  were  the  parents;  while  the  boy  Henry,  from 
earliest  childhood,  displayed  a  stubborn  will  which 

196 


HENRY   DAVID   THOREAU    (1817-1862) 

made  it  difficult  to  direct  him  in  "  the  way  he  should 
go."  He  was,  however,  fitted  at  the  Concord  Acad- 
emy to  enter  Harvard,  where  he  graduated  in  1837. 
As  a  profession,  he  tried  school-teaching  but  not  with 
marked  ability,  but  he  lectured  year  after  year  in  the 
"  Concord  Lyceum  "  course.  He  also  worked  at 
the  lead-pencil  craft;  but  when  he  had  succeeded  in 
producing  the  best  kind  of  pencil,  he  refused  to  make 
another,  for  with  other  Transcendentalists,  he  held 
to  the  belief  of  never  doing  the  same  thing  twice. 

He  was  very  skilful  with  tools,  and  had  a  good 
knowledge  of  mathematics,  so  he  became  both  car- 
penter and  surveyor;  and  did  his  work  so  well  that 
the  neighbours  liked  to  employ  him.  His  idea  of 
thoroughness  was  —  in  driving  a  nail  home  —  "  to 
clench  it  so  faithfully  that  you  can  wake  up  in  the 
night  and  think  of  your  work  with  satisfaction!  " 
Although  Thoreau  was  always  poor,  earning  a  liveli- 
hood never  troubled  him  much  —  he  wished  just 
money  enough  to  live. 

His  wealth  was  in  the  woods  and  on  the  streams, 
and  he  sought  u  a  wide  margin  of  leisure/'  in  which 
to  enjoy  it.  Sometimes  he  would  spend  weeks  earn- 
ing money  to  last  for  a  certain  period,  and  then  he 
would  stop  and  enter  into  his  Nature  study,  until  his 
funds  were  exhausted.  He  delighted  in  the  ser- 
mons of  his  lay  preacher,  Emerson,  for  if  any  one 
ever  believed  in  a  gospel  of  individualism,  it  was 
Thoreau,  and  Emerson  helped  him  in  many  ways. 

197 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  would  often  meet  him  on  his  walks,  carrying  un- 
der his  arm  a  music-book  to  press  plants,  and  in  his 
pocket  drawing-pencils,  microscope,  jack-knife,  and 
twine. 

From  the  day  he  graduated,  to  the  end  of  his  short 
life,  Thoreau  kept  a  journal,  which  was  chiefly  de- 
scriptive of  his  out-of-door  observations.  With  his 
brother  he  studied  the  motion  of  fishes  and  the  flight 
of  birds,  until  the  two  were  able  to  fashion  a  boat 
and  rig  it.  This  they  loaded  with  potatoes  and 
melons  and  started  on  a  trip  —  a  trip  probably  as 
important  to  Thoreau  as  that  on  the  Nile  to  Sir 
Samuel  Baker;  for  in  1849,  ne  published  a  book 
about  it,  entitled  "  A  Week  on  the  Concord  and  Mer- 


rimac." 


This  has  many  picturesque  descriptions,  and  in- 
cludes reminiscences  of  Indian  and  pioneer  life  and 
of  the  Puritanical  observance  of  the  Sabbath.  But 
alas!  for  the  edition  of  a  thousand  volumes  —  over 
seven  hundred  were  unsold,  and  Thoreau  brought 
them  home  and  laughingly  told  of  the  unexpected 
addition  to  his  library.  The  book,  however,  is  more 
valued  to-day. 

His  "  Walden,"  published  several  years  later,  gave 
him  more  immediate  fame.  This  was  the  recountal 
of  a  two  years7  sojourn  in  the  woods.  This  wood- 
land belonged  to  Emerson ;  here  it  was  that  the  phil- 
osopher often  lingered  with  his  muse  who  guided  his 
facile  pen  through  his  "  Woodnotes."  In  the  cen- 

198 


HENRY   DAVID   THOREAU    (1817-1862) 

trc,  in  its  setting  of  pines  and  oaks,  nestles  a  clear 
little  pond  with  a  pebbly  beach,  and  over  it  hovers  an 
Indian  legend  whence  it  derives  its  name;  for  it  is 
said  that  one  day  in  the  ages  agone,  the  Indians  were 
holding  a  wicked  pow-wow  on  the  hill  just  beyond, 
and  there  was  so  much  swearing  that  the  hill  col- 
lapsed, and  all  the  naughty  tongues  were  swallowed 
up.  But  one  good  squaw  —  Walden  —  was  saved, 
and  Walden  Woods  and  Walden  Pond  perpetuate 
her  virtues. 

Thoreau  did  not  come  as  a  hermit  as  many  have 
asserted,  but  he  wished  to  live  deliberately  and  eco- 
nomically, and  he  had  work  to  do  that  he  could  better 
accomplish  alone  with  Nature.  His  friends  aided 
him  in  raising  a  hut  that  was  curtainless  and  lockless, 
and  that  held  the  simplest  furniture.  Here  he  con- 
sorted with  his  guests,  many  of  them  coming  from 
curiosity,  others  like  Emerson,  Alcott  and  Curtis,  to 
discuss  weighty  subjects. 

Thoreau's  expenses  here  amounted  to  twenty-seven 
cents  a  day.  He  called  himself  a  "  self-appointed 
inspector  of  snow-storms  and  rain-storms/'  and  to  the 
tenants  of  the  forest  and  water,  he  became  a  kind  of 
St.  Francis.  "  He  learned  to  sit  so  immovable  upon 
a  rock  that  the  bird,  reptile  or  fish  that  had  retired, 
would  return.  Snakes  coiled  about  his  legs;  fishes 
swam  into  his  hand;  foxes. fled  to  him  for  protection 
from  the  hunter;  and  birds  would  hop  upon  his 
shoulder,  even  while  he  dug  his  little  bean-patch." 

199 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  was  like  the  man  of  whom  u  Quaint  Old  Thomas 
Fuller  "  writes :  — 

"  Either  he  had  told  the  bees  things,  or  the  bees  had  told 
him!" 

Open  "  Walden  "  anywhere  and  you  will  find  an 
interesting  page.  This  one,  for  example :  — 

"  Let  us  spend  our  day  as  deliberately  as  Nature,  and  not 
be  thrown  off  the  track  by  every  nut-shell  and  mosquito- 
wing  that  falls  on  the  rail.  Let  us  rise  early  and  fast  or 
break-iast  gently  and  without  perturbation;  let  company 
come  and  let  company  go;  let  the  bells  ring  and  the  chil- 
dren cry.  Let  us  not  be  upset  and  overwhelmed  in  that 
terrible  rapid  and  whirlpool  called  a  dinner.  Weather  this 
danger  and  you  are  safe,  for  the  rest  of  the  way  is  down- 
hill." 

And  here  is  another  extract  in  which  he  talks  of 
the  pickerel  of  Walden  Pond  as  if  they  were  fabu- 
lous fishes :  — 


"  They  are  so  foreign  to  the  woods,  foreign  as  Arabia  to 
our  Concord  life.  They  possess  a  quite  dazzling  and  tran- 
scendental beauty  which  separates  them  by  a  wide  interval 
from  the  cadaverous  cod  and  haddock,  whose  fame  is  im- 
paled in  our  streets.  They  are  not  green  like  the  pines, 
nor  grey  like  the  stones,  'nor  blue  like  the  sky;  but  they 
have,  to  my  eyes,  if  possible,  yet  rarer  colours,  like  flowers 
and  precious  stones.  .  .  .  They  are  Walden  all  over 
and  all  through;  are  themselves  small  Waldens,  in  the  ani- 

200 


HENRY   DAVID   THOREAU    (1817-1862) 

mal  kingdom,  Waldenses.  It  is  surprising  that  they  are 
caught  here  —  that  in  this  deep  and  capacious  spring  far 
beneath  the  rattling  teams  and  chaises  and  tinkling  sleighs 
that  travel  the  Walden  road  this  great  gold  and  emerald 
fish  swims.  I  never  chanced  to  see  its  kind  in  any  market; 
it  would  be  the  cynosure  of  all  eyes  there." 

Thoreau  stayed  at  the  pond  for  two  years,  coquet- 
ting with  Nature,  alert  to  every  sight  and  sound,  and 
"  Walden  "  for  its  clear  and  exact  details  has  passed 
into  a  classic.  It  is  not  so  introspective  but  more 
crisp  and  fuller  of  life  than  his  "  Week  on  the  Con- 
cord and  Merrimac."  His  "  Church  of  Sunday- 
Walkers  to  Walden  Pond  "  was  most  active  in  his 
time;  and  the  pilgrimage  still  keeps  on,  and  on  the 
road  one  may  meet  travellers  from  all  parts  of  the 
world,  and  each  one  adds  a  memorial  stone  to  the 
cairn  that  stands  on  the  site  of  the  old  hut. 

The  two  books  named  were  all  that  Thoreau  pub- 
lished; but  after  his  death,  selections  were  made  from 
his  journal,  so  that  now  his  works  include  nine  or 
ten  volumes.  His  "  Maine  Woods,'1  "  Cape  Cod," 
and  "  A  Yankee  in  Canada,"  are  used  as  guide- 
books. There  are  many  more  Nature-lovers  now 
than  in  his  day,  and  in  this  enthusiasm  which  Thoreau 
so  really  aroused,  his  books  hold  their  own  niche  in 
American  literature. 

Thoreau  was  not  in  any  sense  a  misanthrope  as 
one  may  find  in  visiting  his  Concord  home.  He  was 
devoted  to  young  people,  and  with  his  flute  and 

20 1 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

bright  anecdotes,  he  liked  to  make  merry,  and  was 
easily  the  centre  of  any  gathering.  On  the  other 
hand,  he  revelled  in  solitude,  and  it  must  be  granted 
that  he  did  live  a  life  of  eccentricities  and  negations. 
He  never  ate  much  or  drank  wine,  or  used  a  trap  or 
gun;  he  never  went  to  church  and  never  married; 
he  had  a  contempt  for  elegant  society,  always  avoid- 
ing inns,  dwelling  instead  in  the  house  of  the  farmer 
or  fisherman,  and  yet  his  ancestry  and  belongings 
were  those  of  refinement. 

He  would  never  pay  his  taxes,  and  spent  certainly 
one  night  in  prison,  because  —  as  he  said  —  he  would 
not  give  money  to  the  collector  to  support  slavery. 
His  description  of  this  night  is  amusing.  He  says :  — 

"  I  was  put  in  jail  just  as  I  was  going  to  the  shoemaker  to 
get  a  shoe  which  was  mended.  ...  I  lay  in  bed  and 
it  seemed  as  if  I  had  never  heard  the  town-clock  strike  be- 
fore nor  the  evening  sounds  of  the  village;  for  we  slept 
with  the  windows  open  which  were  inside  the  grating.  It 
was  to  see  my  native  village  in  the  light  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  and  our  Concord  River  was  changed  into  a  Rhine 
stream,  and  visions  of  knights  and  castles  passed  before  me. 
When  I  was  let  out  the  next  morning,  I  proceeded  to  finish 
my  errand,  and  having  put  on  my  mended  shoe,  joined  a 
huckleberry  party,  who  were  impatient  to  put  themselves 
under  my  conduct !  " 

With  all  Thoreau's  peculiarities,  he  was  on  the 
whole  a  vigorous  and  brave-hearted  American.  His 
life  was  a  short  one,  for  undue  exposure  ended  in 

202 


HENRY   DAVID   THOREAU    (1817-1862) 

consumption  and  he  died  at  forty-five,  and  was  buried 
near  Emerson  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery.  A  line 
of  a  prayer  that  he  wrote  may  be  suggestive  of  his 
religious  feeling :  — 

"Whatever  we  leave  to  God,   God  blesses." 

In  the  rooms  of  the  "  Antiquarian  Society,"  in 
Concord,  are  preserved  many  articles  which  he  used 
at  Walden:  the  bed,  rocking-chair  and  table;  a 
dresser  filled  with  dishes  matched  and  unmatched, 
among  them  a  Lowenstoft  bowl;  a  desk,  containing 
with  other  things  his  Bible,  and  copy  of  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  a  picture  of  John  Brown,  inscribed  with 
"  Farewell,  God  bless  you,"  and  his  grandfather's 
Chinese  spectacles. 

But  one  gets  very  close  to  Thoreau,  in  the  privilege 
of  meeting  his  biographer,  Frank  Sanborn,  who  for 
two  years  dined  with  him  almost  daily,  joining  him 
on  his  walks  and  river  voyages.  Mr.  Sanborn  is 
one  of  the  famous  Concord  coterie,  who,  apart  from 
his  literary  biographies  and  his  influence  in  establish- 
ing the  "  Concord  School  of  Philosophy,"  is  noted  for 
the  reckless  zeal  with  which  he  threw  himself  into 
the  anti-slavery  crusade  —  even  to  the  shielding  of 
John  Brown,  and  it  is  a  rare  pleasure  to  hear  him 
converse  familiarly  on  many  subjects.  He  is  Con- 
cord's twentieth  century  scholar. 

And  there  is  yet  one  other  of  whom  we  would 
203 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

speak  —  through  whose  influence  Thoreau's  spirit 
will  ever  be  kept  alive  —  and  this  is  our  gentle 
"  Naturalist-Philosopher,"  John  Burroughs.  He 
resembles  Thoreau  in  his  Nature-love  and  Nature- 
touch  and  Nature-vision,  but  he  is  not  so  eccentric. 
Dr.  Mabie  says:  — 

"  Thoreau  would  have  devoted  more  time  to  a  wood- 
chuck  than  to  Carlyle,  Arnold,  or  Whitman,  while  Bur- 
roughs emphasises  his  indebtedness  to  the  authors.  His 
is  a  broader  outlook,  and  we  are  thankful  to-day  to  have  a 
sunny,  inspiring  guide  to  "  fresh  fields "  and  "  pastures 


Truly  with  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  we  feel  that 
"  To  live  close  to  Nature  is  to  keep  your  soul  alive." 


204 


XXIII 

NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

"  HE  was  makin'  himsel'  a'  the  time,  but  he  dinna 
ken  may  be  what  he  was  about  till  years  had  passed." 
So  said  Shortreid  of  Sir  Walter  Scott,  "  Wizard  of 
the  North  " —  and  so  say  we  of  our  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne, "  Wizard  of  New  England." 

Bold  ancestors  had  our  "  Wizard  " :  one  of  Revo- 
lutionary fame;  another,  a  stern  old  judge,  known 
for  bitter  denouncement  of  witches.  His  father,  a 
sea-captain,  lived  in  a  small  gambrel-roofed  house 
which  may  still  be  seen  in  Salem,  and  here  on  July 
Fourth,  1804,  Nathaniel  was  born,  and  he  was  only 
four  years  old  when  his  father  died  in  South  Amer- 
ica. 

The  beautiful  mother,  overcome  with  grief,  literr 
ally  withdrew  herself  from  society  for  forty  yearsj 
even  taking  her  meals  apart  from  her  children,  and 
as  they  caught  her  sad  spirit,  their  childhood  fell 
away  from  them.  Nathaniel  inherited  from  his 
mother  a  shyness  and  love  of  solitude  that  were  only 
partially  conquered  long  afterwards  when  he  went 
abroad.  Even  as  a  boy,  strange  fancies  haunted 
him  and  he  invented  odd  stories. 

His  boyhood  was  varied  by  a  sojourn  of  a  year  or 
205 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

two  with  an  uncle  who  owned  a  large  tract  of  pri- 
meval forest,  on  the  banks  of  Sebago  Lake,  Maine. 
Here  — "  free  as  a  bird  in  the  air  " —  he  skated  and 
swam  and  fished  and  devoured  books,  but  this  way  of 
existence  only  increased  his  longing  to  be  alone;  and 
without  conscious  effort,  the  sensitive,  earnest  youth, 
was  lured  on  by  his  muse  into  paths  of  weird,  haunted 
lore.  She  interested  him  alike  in  studying  the  char- 
acter of  the  sternest  New  England  Puritan ;  in  Shakes- 
peare's dramas,  and  Bunyan's  allegory;  and  she 
made  Spenser's  "  Fairie  Queene "  so  fascinating 
that  with  his  first  money  he  bought  a  copy  and  stored 
his  mind  with  many  fanciful  visions.  But  it  was 
long  before  these  took  definite  form  in  his  soul,  and 
in  the  meantime,  we  glance  at  the  practical  years 
that  intervened. 

In  1821,  Hawthorne  entered  Bowdoin  College, 
and  the  very  handsome,  athletic  youth,  with  his 
"  tremulous  sapphire  eyes,"  won  the  admiration  of 
his  classmates.  They  nicknamed  him  "Oberon!" 
and  an  old  gipsy,  meeting  him  one  day,  asjced:  "  Are 
you  man  or  angel?"  Longfellow,  Franklin  Pierce, 
and  Horatio  Bridge  were  members  of  the  class,  and 
all  became  life-long  friends.  Pierce  and  Bridge 
were  always  encouraging  Hawthorne,  and  prophesy- 
ing his  future  success. 

He  graduated  in  1825,  and  went  home  to  Salem 
and  lived  there  for  years,  just  like  his  mother,  as  a 
recluse,  perhaps  only  venturing  out  after  dark  to 

206 


NATHANIEL    HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

walk  on  the  lone  sea-shore.  But  he  was  continually 
writing,  and  often  burning  what  he  wrote,  for  as  he 
later  said:  "  I  waited  a  long  time  for  the  world  to 
know  me."  But  his  grasp  grew  firmer,  and  short 
stories  appeared  in  the  serials  by  an  anonymous  au- 
thor. In  1837,  they  were  gathered  into  a  slender 
volume  called  "  Twice-Told  Tales,"  because  they 
had  already  been  printed.  The  book  was  welcomed 
by  the  reading  world;  and  Longfellow  who  now  had 
won  fame  for  his  poems  was  among  the  first  to  honour 
Hawthorne,  and  even  critical  Poe  foretold  his  future 
greatness. 

About  this  time  Bancroft,  the  historian,  was  col- 
lector at  the  port  of  Boston,  and  through  his  influence, 
Hawthorne  was  made  weigher  and  gauger  there, 
and  we  catch  glimpses  of  our  gentle  dreamer,  weigh- 
ing coal  and  overhauling  ships.  But  presently  poli- 
tics changed:  he  lost  his  position  but  had  earned  one 
thousand  dollars  which  he  was  enabled  to  put  into 
the  Brook  Farm  enterprise. 

The  Brook  Farm  episode  which  comes  next  is  asso- 
ciated with  the  romantic  period  of  Hawthorne's 
career  when  he  was  in  love  —  and  like  many  another 
lover  and  many  another  literary  man,  he  was  led 
astray  by  the  "  isms  "  of  his  day.  He  lived  for  a 
year  at  Brook  Farm,  assisting  much  in  the  hard 
work,  and  very  little  in  the  conversations.  Mar- 
garet Fuller  then  edited  "  The  Dial  "  and  flashed 
out  in  all  her  brilliancy;  and  Hawthorne  milked  a 

207 


STORY    OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

cow,  and  expounded  on  the  fractious  character  of 
Margaret  Fuller's  transcendental  heifer! 

This  gifted  woman  must  have  impressed  him,  for 
years  later  in  his  "  Blithedale  Romance" — which 
contains  artistic  and  humorous  accounts  of  Brook 
Farm  happenings  —  he  introduces  "  Zenobia,"  his 
most  dramatic  female  character,  and  many  think  that 
it  is  a  reproduction  of  the  ardent  prophetess.  But 
she  was  not  his  true  love  —  that  was  the  delightful 
Sophia  Peabody  whom  he  married  in  1842,  and 
never  did  wife  more  gladden  and  enrich  the  life  of 
husband.  They  took  up  their  abode  in  the  "  Old 
Manse,"  at  Concord,  associated  with  ancestral 
Emersons  and  Ripleys. 

Hawthorne  describes  it  in  his  "  Mosses  "  as 
house  that  a  priest  had  built,  and  other  priests  hai 
lived  in,  and  it  was  "  awful  to  reflect  how  many  ser- 
mons must  have  been  written  there  ";  but  he  added  a 
hope  that  "  wisdom  would  descend "  upon  him  — 
and  it  did  as  we  shall  see.  He  took  for  his  study 
the  room  in  which  Emerson  had  written  "  Nature," 
and  for  three  years  filled  it  with  gleaming  visions  of 
fancy  and  allegory  —  and  what  were  some  of  the 
"  Mosses  "  that  were  rooted  here?  Among  them 
are  the  unresting  "  Old  Apple-Dealer,"  "  Rappac- 
cini's  Daughter,"  "  Birds  and  Bird  Voices,"  and 
numerous  "  Sketches  from  Memory."  Perhaps  the 
most  assertive  "  Moss "  is  "  The  Town-Pump," 
"  that  all  day  long  at  the  busiest  corner  poured  forth 

208 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

alike  a  stream  of  eloquence  and  a  stream  of  water." 
It  held  stoutly  to  the  fact  that  it  was  "  Town  Treas- 
urer," "  Overseer  of  the  Poor,"  "  Head  of  the  Fire 
Department,"  and  "  Cup-Bearer  to  the  Parched  Pop- 
ulation," always  discharging  its  duties  "  in  a  cool, 
steady,  upright,  downright "  way. 

But  charming  beyond  all  was  the  "  Old  Manse  " 
itself  which  Hawthorne  literally  wrote  into  renown; 
the  "  Mosses  "  grew  year  by  year,  until  there  were 
enough  to  gather  into  a  book.  Many  visited  the 
house,  and  Mrs.  Hawthorne  was  a  gracious  hostess 
—  and  allowed  her  husband  to  maintain  his  usual 
aloofness.  The  river  was  just  back  of  the  sloping 
meadow.  Thoreau  had  sold  Hawthorne  a  boat  and 
taught  him  to  paddle,  so  it  was  easy  to  escape  — 
specially  if  he  saw  Dr.  Alcott  approaching  to  advo- 
cate Transcendentalism,  which  Hawthorne  detested. 
Emerson  sometimes  broke  in  upon  his  musings,  and 
when  Franklin  Pierce  came,  the  whole  town  was  in- 
vited to  meet  him. 

Mrs.  Julia  Ward  Howe  writes  playfully  of  her 
first  visit.  Mrs.  Hawthorne  received  her  most 
charmingly,  promising  that  she  should  know  her 
husband.  Presently  a  figure  descended  the  stairs. 
"  My  Husband,"  cried  Mrs.  Hawthorne,  "  here 
are  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Howe!  "  What  they  did  see,  was 
a  broad  hat,  pulled  down  over  a  hidden  face,  and  a 
figure  that  quickly  vanished  through  an  opposite  door, 
and  Mrs.  Hawthorne  made  some  excuse  about  an 

209 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

appointment  which  called  her  husband  to  go  up  the 
river  with  Thoreau.  And  Mrs.  Howe  adds  naively: 
"  So  the  first  time  I  saw  Hawthorne  —  I  did  not  see 
him!"  Many  like  pleasing  reminiscences  —  from 
the  attic  "  Saints'  Room  "  to  the  peaceful  river  — 
are  recalled  as  we  are  permitted  to  enter  this  old 
romantic  "  Manse.'* 

But  in  Hawthorne's  day,  literature  was  too  poorly 
paid  to  support  a  family;  and  in  1845,  through  the 
kindness  of  friends,  he  was  appointed  surveyor  at  the 
custom-house,  in  Salem  —  a  town  that  from  earliest 
boyhood  had  made  upon  him  a  curious  impression. 
Here  he  was  interviewed  by  all  manner  of  folk  on 
all  manner  of  subjects,  and  he  noted  down  scenes 
and  characters  for  future  use.  Custom-house  doings 
would  have  seemed  prosaic  to  most  men,  but  un- 
ceasingly "  a  romance  was  growling  "  in  Hawthorne's 
brain;  and  when  after  four  years,  he  lost  his  office, 
owing  to  political  changes,  he  took  from  the  drawer 
a  half-finished  manuscript.  His  wife  was  rejoiced 
—  she  had  saved  money  for  household  expenses,  and 
he  should  write! 

Now  he  spent  a  winter  upon  his  first  long  work, 
"  The  Scarlet  Letter  " —  a  tale  of  sin  and  penalty  — 
the  theme  taken  from  a  letter  embroidered  upon  a 
mantle.  He  brooded  over  it  and  shaped  the  moral, 
and  so  felt  its  pathos  that  he  grew  thinner  and 
thinner,  and  "  a  knot  of  sorrow  appeared  in  his 
forehead."  He  became  so  oblivious  to  his  surround- 

210 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

ings  that  his  wife  one  day  found  in  her  basket  a  piece 
of  work  cut  up  into  bits.  Indeed,  he  had  a  habit  of 
whittling  off  his  table  and  the  arms  of  his  chair  as 
he  wrote. 

When  the  story  was  finished,  Hawthorne  read  it 
to  his  wife,  until  she  was  overcome  and  pressed  her 
hands  to  her  ears  —  for  she  could  listen  no  longer. 
So  he  knew  that  it  must  have  force,  and  he  sent  it 
to  his  optimistic  friend,  James  T.  Fields,  the  pub- 
lisher, who  sat  up  all  night  to  read  it  through,  and 
then,  in  1880,  it  belonged  to  the  public.  It  tells  of 
only  four  lives,  but  it  presents  so  really  the  manners 
and  morals  of  an  earlier  period,  that  it  will  ever  be 
an  artistic  and  powerful  masterpiece  of  Puritan  liter- 
ature. 

To-day,  in  Salem,  we  may  visit  the  tall,  grim  house 
haunted  with  secrets,  where  lived  Hester  Prynne  and 
little  Pearl.  The  introductory  chapter  to  "  The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  which  is  exceedingly  humourous, 
relieves  the  sombre  tale  which  did  offend  for  a  while 
the  good  people  of  Salem,  who  thought  that  they 
recognised  in  it  sketches  of  old  officials;  indeed  they 
neither  knew  nor  wished  to  know  the  morbid  author 
who  spent  his  days  in  writing  stories  and  his  nights 
in  burning  them.  But  now  Salem  speaks  the  name 
of  Hawthorne  with  reverence;  and  with  the  aid  of 
Rudyard  Kipling,  the  town  is  attempting  to  raise 
fifty  thousand  dollars  for  his  monument. 

The  financial  gains  from  "  The  Scarlet  Letter  " 

211 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

were  so  great  that  Mrs.  Hawthorne  wrote  to  a 
friend  as  follows :  "  Will  you  ask  father  to  go  to 
Earle's  and  order  for  Mr.  Hawthorne  a  suit  of 
clothes;  the  coat  to  be  of  broadcloth  of  six  or  seven 
dollars  a  yard;  the  pantaloons  of  Kerseymere  or 
broadcloth  to  correspond;  and  the  rest  of  satin  —  all 
to  be  black." 

And  now,  not  long  afterwards,  there  came  yet  an- 
other family  move  —  this  time  to  what  Hawthorne 
called  "  The  ugliest  little  farmhouse  in  the  Lenox 
woods.'1  His  friends,  however,  thought  it  the 
cosiest  kind  of  home.  Among  his  writings  here  was 
the  "  Wonder-Book  for  Children."  He  loved  chil- 
dren and  entered  into  their  every  caprice  —  and  his 
daughter  says  "  there  never  was  such  a  playmate  " — 
and  he  was  constantly  telling  stones.  Years  before, 
his  "  Grandfather's  Chair  "  had  introduced  them  to 
historical  New  England,  even  from  the  landing  of 
the  Mayflower;  and  now  the  "  Wonder-Book  "  and 
"  Tanglewood  Tales "  laid  open  such  marvellous 
legends  of  old  romance  which  go  right  to  the  heart 
of  a  child;  and  in  their  mythical  and  moral  setting 
—  these  books  are  among  the  loveliest  of  young  peo- 
ple's classics. 

Perhaps  one  of  these  most  typical  stories  is  the 
"  Snow  Image,"  which  tells  of  the  statue  fashioned 
by  two  children.  Then  Jack  Frost  and  the  West 
Wind  endowed  it  with  life,  and  it  became  a  little  snow- 
sister,  and  a  source  of  every-day  happiness.  But  the 

212 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

practical  father  disenchanted  the  children,  and  de- 
stroyed their  ideal  —  leaving  only  the  moral  1 

While  in  the  Lenox  woods,  Hawthorne  wrote  his 
"  House  of  the  Seven  Gables  " —  which  portrays  the 
fulfilment  of  a  curse  upon  the  distant  descendants  of 
a  wrong-doer.  In  this  house  in  Salem,  dwelt  stern, 
Puritanical  Hepzibah  Pyncheon  and  her  brother  Clif- 
ford, and  Phoebe  is  the  ray  of  sunshine  that  brings 
custom  to  the  cent-shop.  In  the  book,  again  four 
Puritan  characters  are  drawn  with  the  realism  of  a 
tiny  Dutch  picture,  and  while  planning  it,  Haw- 
thorne wrote  one  day :  — 

"My  house  of  the  seven  gables  is  so  to  speak  finished ; 
only  I  am  hammering  away  a  little  on  the  roof  and  doing 
up  a  few  jobs  that  were  left  incomplete." 

The  plot  was  less  gloomy  than  that  of  "  The  Scarlet 
Letter,"  and  like  that  was  quickly  successful. 

And  now,  in  1852,  Hawthorne  returned  to  Con- 
cord, and  bought  one  of  Dr.  Alcott's  old  homes.  He 
christened  it  "  The  Wayside,"  for  he  said  that  he  was 
pausing  "  by  the  wayside  of  life."  But  he  was 
hardly  settled,  before  his  college  friend,  Franklin 
Pierce,  now  President  of  the  United  States,  appointed 
him  consul  to  Liverpool;  and  in  1853,  he  went  with 
his  family  abroad,  and  was  gone  for  seven  years. 
During  the  first  four,  in  the  consulate,  he  became 
familiar  with  English  life;  then  resigning  his  posi- 

213 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

tion,  he  travelled  on  the  Continent,  and  lingered  suf- 
ficiently long  in  Rome  and  Florence  to  gather  ma- 
terials for  his  "  Marble  Faun."  Italy  fascinated 
him,  and  Rome  drew  itself  into  his  heart  "  as  even 
little  Concord  or  sleepy  old  Salem  never  did."  It 
was  curious  but  it  seemed  strangely  homelike.  In  the 
Palazzo  Barberini,  the  favourite  meeting-place  of 
Americans,  he  came  in  touch  with  foreigners  and 
countrymen.  He  dined  with  T.  B.  Read,  met  Gib- 
son and  Story,  walked  with  Motley,  found  in  Mrs. 
Jameson  a  sensible  old  lady,  took  tea  with  Frederica 
Bremer,  "  the  funniest  little  old  lady,"  and  later  on 
in  Florence  greatly  enjoyed  the  Brownings. 

Among  works  of  art,  he  found  special  beauty  in 
Praxiteles's  "  Marble  Faun,"  with  which  he  some- 
how associated  all  kinds  of  fun  and  pathos;  and  he 
saw  a  young  man  that  to  his  mind  resembled  it,  and 
from  the  two,  he  evolved  the  title  of  his  romance. 
And  he  determined  to  bring  in  Torro  del  Simio,  with 
its  legend  of  light  ever  burning  at  the  "  Virgin's 
Shrine,"  and  another  romance  began  to  shape  itself, 
and  he  commenced  to  work  it  out  in  Rome,  and  con* 
tinued  it  in  the  Florentine  villa  where  he  later  so- 
journed. That  had  a  moss-grown,  tradition-haunted 
tower,  just  the  thing  to  clap  into  the  project,  and  once 
more  four  characters  stand  out —  but  against  a  Roman 
background. 

These  are  Kenyon,  the  sculptor,  Donatello,  "  the 
Faun,"  Miriam  the  artist,  and  Hilda,  the  Puritan 

214 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

maid,  who  copied  masterpieces  and  tended  the  Vir- 
gin's lamp  in  the  tower.  The  romance  conceived  in 
Italy  was  ended  in  England.  "  The  Marble  Faun  " 
is  shadowy  and  mysterious.  Possibly  its  fame  rests 
rather  on  its  being  such  an  excellent  guide-book  for 
Rome  rather  than  on  the  thread  of  story  running 
through  it. 

After  seven  years'  absence,  we  find  Hawthorne  at 
"  The  Wayside,"  and  here  he  spent  the  last  four 
years  of  his  life.  On  his  arrival,  Emerson  tendered 
him  a  reception,  and  all  were  surprised  at  the  ease 
and  grace  of  manner  acquired  by  social  intercourse 
in  Europe.  He  enlarged  the  house,  adding  among 
other  conveniences  a  tower  to  which  he  might  readily 
retreat.  He  planted  trees,  arranged  woodland 
walks,  and  was  much  disappointed  that  he  could  not 
make  the  place  resemble  an  English  park.  His 
favourite  resort  was  the  hillside  back  of  the  house, 
where  for  hours  he  would  pace  back  and  forth,  lis- 
tening to  the  music  of  the  pines,  and  thinking 
thoughts;  then  he  would  hurry  up  to  the  turret-room 
and  note  them  down,  or  sometimes  climb  up  many 
steps  to  write  in  his  rural  bower.  Here  he  converted 
his  "  English  Notes  "  into  "  Our  Old  Home,"  one 
of  his  most  interesting  works,  descriptive  of  his  con- 
sular life. 

Here,  too,  he  outlined  and  began  to  write  his 
"  Dolliver  Romance,"  which  he  had  promised  "  The 
Atlantic  Monthly."  He  did  not  live  to  complete 

215 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

it.  He  "  let  fall  the  pen  and  left  the  tale  half- 
told." 

He  enjoyed  the  gatherings  of  "  The  Circle,"  held 
as  we  have  said  on  Monday  evenings,  at  Emerson's. 
His  evenings  at  home  were  always  delightful.  The 
family  assembled  about  the  astral  lamp  —  Mrs. 
Hawthorne  with  her  work  —  and  the  young  people 
eager-eyed  —  while  the  father  read  aloud.  He 
made  the  world  of  Nature  and  of  life  beautiful  to 
them.  Rose  once  said:  "  The  presence  of  my  father 
filled  my  heart " ;  and  Julian  told  of  the  home  when 
he  became  his  father's  intimate  biographer. 

One  thing,  however,  sorely  distressed  the  great 
romancer,  and  this  was  the  national  storm  that  gath- 
ered, and  in  1861,  burst  into  Civil  War.  Then  al- 
most abruptly  his  health  gave  way;  he  took  short 
trips  with  his  son  to  Boston  and  Washington  or  to 
some  near-by  seaside  resort,  but  he  did  not  grow 
better ;  and  finally  he  was  persuaded  to  go  on  another 
journey  with  his  old  friend,  Ex-President  Pierce,  and 
he  died  suddenly,  at  Plymouth,  New  Hampshire,  on 
May  eighteenth,  1864. 

Upon  his  coffin  was  placed  his  "  tale  half-told,11 
and  a  wreath  of  apple-blossoms  from  the  "  Manse." 
In  the  procession  that  followed  him  to  his  burial 
were  Emerson,  Longfellow,  Lowell,  Agassiz,  Whip- 
pie,  Dr.  Alcott,  and  Fields,  and  his  best-loved  Chan- 
ning  and  Pierce;  and  James  Freeman  Clarke  said 
over  his  remains  the  last  sad  service,  and  he  was  laid 

216 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    (1804-1864) 

to  rest  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery,  near  "  the  hill- 
top hearsed  with  pines." 

Hawthorne  was  a  man  of  deep  and  reverent  reli- 
gious faith.  He  loved  his  Bible,  and  wished  that  it 
were  published  in  small  volumes  that  he  might  carry 
it  in  his  pocket.  Possessed  of  unusual  magnetism, 
he  was  so  reserved  that  he  was  understood  by  few 
—  literally  a  gentle-man.  Emerson  discovered  in 
him  a  strongly  feminine  element.  He  was  devoted 
to  his  family,  his  intimate  friends,  flowers  and  pets, 
and  was  seldom  at  ease  in  a  social  function  for  he 
lived  in  a  magical  region  all  his  own.  Emerson,  in 
his  tribute,  says:  u  He  rode  so  well  his  horse  of  the 
night,"  and  Stedman  begins  his  poem  on  Hawthorne 
with  the  following  lines :  — 

"  Two  natures  in  him  strove 
Like  day  with  night,  his  sunshine  and  his  gloom." 

With  unique  creative  art,  he  pictured  to  the  world 
as  no  other  has  done  the  New  England  Puritan  con- 
science —  he  revealed  souls  rather  than  faces  —  and 
he  gave  it  a  symbolic  setting;  and  Moncure  Conway 
says  that  "  unlike  many  others,  Hawthorne  wrote 
himself  out." 

To-day,  Mrs.  Lothrop,  the  widow  of  the  pub- 
lisher, owns  "  The  Wayside."  We  know  her  better 
as  "  Margaret  Sidney,"  the  author,  who,  with  lively 
imagination  and  rare  story-telling  gift,  has  brought 

217 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

into  being  "  The  Five  Little  Peppers."  It  is  such  a 
pleasure  to  hear  her  tell  how  these  little  "  Peppers," 
in  thought,  came  to  stay  with  her  and  follow  her 
everywhere  —  until  at  last  she  could  not  help  setting 
down  some  of  their  doings.  She  sent  the  manu- 
script to  "Wide  Awake";  the  children  called  for 
more;  and  as  the  "Peppers"  grew  up,  their  most 
original  words  and  deeds  filled  eleven  volumes  of 
stories. 

Mrs.  Lothrop,  with  tact  and  exquisite  taste,  has 
preserved  Hawthorne's  home  as  nearly  as  possible 
as  it  was  in  his  day.  There  is  the  same  dining-room 
where  "  the  sunshine  comes  in  warmly  and  brightly 
thro1  the  better  half  of  a  winter's  day";  Haw- 
thorne's bedroom;  the  table  upon  which  he  and  his 
wife  revised  manuscripts;  the  tower-study  with  its 
remarkable  pictorial  illustrations,  and  the  standing- 
desk  where  he  wrote ;  and  back  of  the  house  the  pine- 
clad  slope  which  Mrs.  Hawthorne  named  his 
"  Mount  of  Vision."  The  "  School  of  Philosophy  " 
is  near,  with  closed  doors. 

Here  it  was,  at  "  The  Wayside,"  that  Mrs.  Lo- 
throp planned  a  Hawthorne  "Centenary";  and  on 
July  fourth,  fifth  and  sixth,  1904,  many  eminent  men 
and  women  gathered  in  this  building  to  honour  the 
memory  of  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  Here  on  the  hill- 
side Beatrice  Hawthorne,  granddaughter  of  "  The 
Wizard  of  New  England,"  unveiled  a  bronze  tablet, 
set  in  a  rough  boulder,  on  which  is  inscribed :  — ? 

218 


NATHANIEL   HAWTHORNE    ([1804-1864) 

"  This  tablet  placed 

At  the  centennial  exercises 

July  4,   1904 

Commemo  rates 

Nathaniel  Hawthorne 

He  trod  daily  this  path  to  the  hill 

To  formulate 
As  he  paced  to  and  fro 

Upon  its  summit 
His  marvellous  romances." 

And  was  there  ever  such  another  town  as  Concord ! 
For  apart  from  those  of  whom  we  have  spoken,  it 
cherishes  memories  of  Webster  and  Kossuth  and 
Agassiz  and  Lafayette  and  Harriet  Hosmer;  yes  — 
and  of  many  more  who  came  either  "  to  drink  in  wis- 
dom "  at  its  "  School  of  Philosophy/'  or  to  bask  in 
the  presence  of  its  sages.  Then  Concord  has  its 
battle-ground  and  monuments  and  inscribed  tablets; 
its  literary  homes;  its  library,  with  one  alcove  given 
to  its  own  authors;  and  its  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery 
— "  voiceless  yet  eloquent  with  great  names." 


219 


XXIV 

HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW    (1807-1882) 

IN  a  great  square  house  in  Portland,  "  City  by  the 
Sea,"  on  February  twenty-seventh,  1807,  Henry  W. 
Longfellow  was  born.  It  was  a  quiet,  well-ordered 
home,  with  a  winsome  mother,  devoted  to  art,  music, 
and  poetry  —  the  father,  a  leading  lawyer  and  mem- 
ber of  Congress.  From  the  former,  the  boy  inher- 
ited a  love  for  those  things  that  made  him  as  a  man, 
the  most  popular  poet  in  America;  from  the  latter, 
genuine  courtesy,  and  clear,  practical  habits  of 
thought  and  action.  And  there  was  for  him,  also, 
another  source  of  wealth:  the  perpetual  fascination 
of  the  rock-girt  bay,  with  sunrise  and  moonlight  play- 
ing over  it  —  the  sleet  and  storm  and  fog-bell  —  the 
beacon-light,  and  the  sunny  isles  —  all  these  very 
early  inspired  him  with 

"  The  beauty  and  the  mystery  of  ships, 
And  the  magic  of  the  sea." 

Henry  was  a  most  youthful  prodigy.  He  at- 
tended a  dame's  school  at  three;  was  half  through 
his  Latin  grammar  at  seven;  was  delighted  with  Irv- 
ing's  "Sketch-Book"  at  twelve;  and  at  thirteen, 
slipped  his  first  poem,  "  The  Battle  of  Lovell's 

220 


HENRY   WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW 

Pond,"  into  the  letter-box  of  "  The  Portland  Ga- 
zette." Two  or  three  times  he  peeked  into  the  win- 
dow to  see  the  printers  at  work  upon  the  paper;  and 
his  joy  was  equal  to  that  of  Whittier's,  on  a  similar 
occasion,  when  he  saw  his  verses  in  print.  Long 
years  later,  he  said:  "  I  don't  think  any  other  liter- 
ary success  in  my  life  has  made  me  quite  so  happy." 

At  fourteen,  Longfellow  entered  Hawthorne's 
class  at  Bowdoin  College ;  and  his  studious  and  genial 
nature  made  him  friends  among  both  professors  and 
students.  He  had  already  determined  to  be  eminent 
in  something,  and  it  was  during  his  four  years  here 
that  he  more  and  more  eagerly  aspired  to  a 
literary  career.  The  prudent  father  looked  coldly 
on  such  a  project,  for  literature  would  never  give  his 
son  support.  So  the  latter  finally  decided  on  law 
for  his  "  real  existence,"  while  literature  should  be 
his  "  ideal  one." 

However,  good  fortune  waited  on  him,  for  it  ap- 
pears that  Madame  Bowdoin  had  left  one  thousand 
dollars  in  her  will,  to  establish  in  the  college  a 
chair  of  modern  languages.  The  faculty  appreciated 
Longfellow's  scholarly  way  and  the  ease  with  which 
he  mastered  a  foreign  tongue,  and  they  knew  his 
great  desire.  So  young  as  he  was,  he  was  offered  the 
professorship,  if  he  would  first  go  abroad  and  qual- 
ify for  it,  and  he  sailed  away  and  was  gone  three 
years.  He  worked  very  hard  and  returned  a  master 
in  French,  Spanish,  Italian,  and  German;  and  in 

221 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

1829,  when  but  twenty-two  years  old,  entered  upon 
his  college  duties.  He  prepared  his  own  text-books, 
kept  well  abreast  of  his  pupils,  and  filled  them  with 
enthusiasm  for  their  work. 

In  1831,  he  married  "a  beauteous  being,"  Miss 
Mary  Potter.  Two  years  later,  he  published 
"  Outre-Mer,"  a  collection  of  sketches,  describing 
his  life  abroad.  They  resemble  Irving's,  though 
written  in  a  lighter,  more  graceful  vein.  And  Long- 
fellow's reputation  was  so  assured  at  Bowdoin,  that 
after  six  years  of  service,  he  was  called  to  a  greater 
honour  —  no  less  than  to  succeed  George  Ticknor, 
in  the  chair  of  modern  languages  at  Harvard  —  and 
again  he  went  abroad  to  equip  himself  —  this  time 
in  Germany,  Scandinavia,  Denmark,  and  Holland. 
A  great  sorrow  came  to  him  while  in  Rotterdam, 
and  this  was  the  death  of  his  "  beauteous  being." 

But  he  spent  three  years  in  very  earnest  prepara- 
tion, and  so  was  enabled,  in  1836,  to  assume  his  pro- 
fessorship at  Cambridge.  Modern  languages,  with 
the  wealth  of  modern  literature  which  they  unlock, 
was  a  comparatively  new  subject  to  the  students,  who 
before  had  been  content  with  ancient  classics;  and 
Longfellow  was  rapidly  popular  as  a  lecturer,  be- 
cause he  brought  to  them  such  rich  treasures  in  art 
and  song  and  tradition.  He  really  created  a  new 
atmosphere  of  modern  culture,  and  now  he  had  time 
to  write. 

In  1839,  "Hyperion"  came  out,  so  entitled  be- 
222 


JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL  \ 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES  JOHN   GREENLEAF   WHITTIER 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

cause  it  moved  on  high,  among  the  clouds  and  stars. 
This  is  the  story  of  Paul  Fleming,  a  young,  poetic 
pilgrim,  who  buries  himself  in  books  in  order  to  get 
in  touch  with  German  life,  and  at  the  same  time, 
falls  in  love  with  Mary  Ashburton.  It  is  couched 
in  choicest  language,  holds  bits  of  philosophy,  his- 
tory, and  Alpine  scenery  —  and  it  is  so  full  of 
legends  of  castled  Rhenish  towers  that  it  may  serve 
as  a  guide-book.  The  final  tribute  is  made  to  Goe- 
the, who  had  just  died.  It  is  needless  to  add  that 
Paul  Fleming  is  Longfellow  himself,  and  Mary  Ash- 
burton,  the  Frances  Appleton  whom  he  met  abroad 
and  later  married. 

With  "  Hyperion,"  we  dismiss  Longfellow's  prose 
works  which  were  but  three;  the  others  being  "  Outre- 
Mer,"  of  which  we  have  already  spoken,  and  "  Kav- 
anagh,"  a  story  of  New  England  life. 

But  his  poems  gave  him  wider  fame,  and  they 
are  so  various  that  it  is  hard  to  know  upon  which  to 
pause.  In  1839,  appeared  his  "  Voices  of  the 
Night";  among  them  "The  Reaper  and  the 
Flowers,"  "  The  Footsteps  of  Angels,"  and  "  The 
Psalm  of  Life."  For  the  last,  written  on  the  back 
of  an  old  invitation,  he  had  been  promised,  on  its 
first  publication,  five  dollars;  he  never  received  a 
cent,  but  perhaps  later  on  he  realised  what  it  did  for 
the  world! 

4  The  Voices  "  was  followed  by  a  collection  called 
"  Ballads  and  Other  Poems."  In  this  were  two 

223 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

ballads  that  in  strength,  simplicity,  rapid  movement, 
and  picturesqueness,  rivalled  those  of  the  mediaeval 
day.  In  the  first,  "  The  Skeleton  in  Armour,"  the 
skeleton  tells  how  he  as  "  a  Viking  bold  "  had  won 
the  daughter  of  a  Norwegian  king;  and  how,  his  suit 
being  denied,  he  had  borne  away  his  prize  "  through 
the  wild  hurricane."  "  The  Wreck  of  the  Hes- 
perus," picturing  a  disaster  off  the  Gloucester  coast, 
came  to  the  poet  at  midnight,  in  stanzas ;  and  the  two 
fully  established  his  ability  as  a  story-teller  in  verse. 
In  the  same  collection,  we  trace  upward  the  youthful 
yearnings  of  "  Excelsior."  Here,  too,  is  "  The  Vil- 
lage Blacksmith  "  which  he  called  his  second  "  Psalm 
of  Life,"  and  it  took  a  very  human  pen  to  give  such 
a  subject  poetic  setting. 

In  1842,  he  made  a  short  trip  abroad  for  his 
health,  visited  Belgium,  and  climbing  up  into  the  bel- 
fry of  Bruges,  found  a  suggestion  for  a  poem.  The 
boisterous  return  voyage  lasted  fifteen  days,  and  dur- 
ing sleepless  nights,  he  meditated  over  seven  anti- 
slavery  poems,  which  in  the  mornings  were  written 
out.  They  were  full  of  earnest  feeling,  but  not  pas- 
sionate like  Whittier's. 

Shortly  after,  he  married  Miss  Appleton,  the  sister 
of  Motley's  friend,  and  soon  another  volume  of 
poems  was  announced,  its  opening  one  being  "  The 
Belfry  of  Bruges."  In  this  volume  is  the  bit 
of  optimism,  "  The  Arrow  and  the  Song,"  which 
he  wrote  one  morning  before  church,  with  the  speed 

224 


HENRY  WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW 

of  an  arrow.  In  this,  too,  we  listen  to  "  The  Old 
Clock  on  the  Stairs,"  which  still  holds  its  own  at  Elm 
Knoll,  near  Pittsfield;  and  here,  in  1912,  it  ticked  out 
to  Miss  Alice  Longfellow  the  same  refrain :  — 

"  Forever  —  never ! 
Never  —  forever !  " 

that  it  gave  to  her  father,  in  1845,  when  on  his  wed- 
ding-tour, he  and  his  bride  paused  in  that  mansion  of 
"  Free-hearted  Hospitality." 

Like  his  swallow-flights  of  song,  his  longer  poems 
were  greeted,  and  none  more  heartily  than  "  Evan- 
geline  " —  the  flower  of  American  idyls.  The  story 
is  founded  on  a  tradition  previously  proposed  to 
Hawthorne;  and  Longfellow  liked  it  and  begged 
him,  if  he  had  decided  not  to  use  it  for  a  story,  to 
give  it  to  him  for  a  legendary  poem.  Hawthorne 
willingly  consented,  and  later  highly  praised  Long- 
fellow's version. 

The  story  is  of  two  Acadian  lovers,  who,  in  the 
War  of  1755,  were  parted  on  their  marriage  morn; 
and  we  follow  the  saintly  maiden,  Evangeline,  in  her 
weary  quest  for  her  lost  Gabriel.  It  tells  of  unrest, 
hope  deferred,  and  a  death-bed  meeting;  but  it  is 
woven  in  flowing  hexameter  lines  and  we  catch  pleas- 
ing glimpses  of  Acadia,  the  moonlight  forest,  pic- 
turesque trappers,  the  river  bank  and  ocean  shore; 
and  we  hear  the  exquisite  song  of  the  mocking-bird, 

225 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

wildest  of  singers.  Indeed,  Longfellow  cast  over 
the  region  such  a  halo  of  romance  that  it  is  known  as 
"  Evangeline's  Land  " —  and  "  on  the  shores  of  the 
Basin  of  Minas  "  maidens  still  "  by  the  evening  fire 
repeat  Evangeline's  story."  Years  later,  when 
Longfellow  was  graciously  received  by  Queen  Vic- 
toria, the  servants  stood  in  the  hall  to  see  him  as  he 
passed,  because  they  had  heard  Prince  Albert  read 
"  Evangeline  "  to  the  royal  children. 

It  was  not  long  after  "  Evangeline  "  made  its  ap- 
pearance before  Longfellow  announced  yet  "  another 
stone  rolled  off  the  hilltop."  This  was  the  collection 
called  "  By  the  Seaside  and  by  the  Fireside  " ;  and  in 
this  we  read  "  The  Building  of  the  Ship,"  one  of  our 
finest  national  poems,  closing  with  its  magnificent 
apostrophe  to  the  Union;  and  then,  in  1854,  he  re- 
signed his  Cambridge  professorship  to  Lowell,  for  he 
wished  to  devote  the  rest  of  his  life  to  society  and 
his  "  ideal  world  of  poetry." 

In  about  a  year,  we  are  introduced  to  the  Indian 
epic,  "  Hiawatha."  Longfellow  had  meditated 
much  upon  this  aboriginal  race ;  Cooper  had  given  it  a 
romantic  setting;  Parkman,  a  historical  one;  and  he 
desired  to  treat  it  poetically;  and  "Hiawatha,"  in 
ringing  metre,  is  a  unique  addition  to  our  native  lit- 
erature. It  forms  a  series  of  legends  of  the  uncut 
forests,  war,  and  hunting-scenes,  figures  strange  and 
beautiful,  and  savage  beasts  that  play  their  part. 

We  may  hear  the  whir  of  the  partridge  and  most 
336 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

alluring  of  bird-notes.  We  watch  the  youthful  Hia- 
watha as  he  learns  of  "  every  bird  its  language"; 
we  follow  him  on  his  quest  to  the  wigwam  where 

"  Sat  the  ancient  arrow-maker 
In  the  land  of  the  Dakotas, 
Making  arrow-heads  of  jasper." 

We  find  him  wooing  the  lovely  daughter,  Minne- 
haha,  and  then  they  depart,  leaving 

".     .     .     the  old  man   standing  lonely 
At  the  doorway  of  his  wigwam," 

and  hear  the  Falls  of  Minnehaha 

"  Calling  to  them  from  the  distance, 
Crying  to  them  from  afar  off, 
'  Fare  thee  well,  O  Minnehaha! '  " 

and  we  trace  through  dreadful  famine  and  Minne- 
haha's  death,  the  slender  thread  of  the  story,  follow- 
ing the  noble  Hiawatha  as  he  journeys  onward  to 

"  The  land  of  the  Hereafter." 

And  next  Longfellow —  the  poet  of  the  Indian  — 
becomes  in  "  The  Courtship  of  Miles  Standish,"  the 
poet  of  the  Puritan.  Now  we  are  in  old  Plymouth, 
with  its  graves  on  the  hill,  its  meeting-house,  Puritan 
homes,  and  busy  spinning-wheels.  Here  are  the  bluff 

227 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

Captain,  a  better  fighter  than  lover,  loyal  John  Alden, 
and  the  damsel  Priscilla :  — 

"  Beautiful  with  her  beauty, 
And  rich  with  the  wealth  of  her  being." 

And  one  must  read  the  poem  to  appreciate  the  quiz- 
zing, pivotal  question :  - 

"  Why  don't  you  speak  for  yourself,  John  ?  " 

In  "  The  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn,"  the  scene  is 
laid  in  a  hostelry,  at  Sudbury,  Massachusetts,— 

"  Built  in  the  old  colonial  day 
When  men  lived  in  a  grander  way 
With  ampler  hospitality." 

Here,  in  imagination,  there  assembled,  from  time 
to  time,  about  the  blazing  hearth,  a  coterie  of  merry 
guests,  among  them  Ole  Bull,  Professor  Tredwell, 
Luigi  Monti,  and  the  poet  himself;  and  each  told  a 
story — "well  or  ill" — after  the  manner  of  the 
"Decameron,"  or  "Canterbury  Tales";  and  for 
these  "  Tales  "  Longfellow  drew  upon  his  knowledge 
of  old  legends.  Here  in  one  we  may  wake  to  u  the 
midnight  message  of  Paul  Revere  " —  in  another, 
the  melodious  chant  in  "  King  Robert  of  Sicily." 

Few  poets  dare  attempt  such  lengthy  poems  as 
41  Evangeline,"  "Hiawatha,"  "The  Courtship  of 
Miles  Standish,"  and  "The  Tales  of  a  Wayside 

228 


HENRY  WADSWORTH   LONGFELLOW 

Inn  " —  but  each  fills  an  honoured  niche  in  American 
literature;  and  Longfellow  has  also  written  many 
sonnets. 

We  next  open  to  some  of  his  poems  of  place  that 
came  from  his  great  "  Library  of  Poetry  and  Song," 
the  treasure-house  that  he  translated  from  the  Old 
World  to  the  New.  As  a  romancer,  he  loved  to 
wander  far,  and  to  return  laden  with  word-pictures 
to  gladden  those  at  home.  There  are  many 

"  Old  legends  of  the  monkish  pages, 
Traditions  of  the  saint  and  sages, 
Tales  that  have  the  rime  of  ages, 
And  chronicles  of  eld," 

and  it  is  a  confusion  of  riches,  from  which  to  select. 
We  grow  drowsy  over  the  English  "  Curfew  "  as 
it  tolls  forth :  — 

"  Cover  the  embers, 

And  put  out  the  light; 
Toil  comes  with  the  morning 
And  rest  with  the  night. 

Song  sinks  into  silence, 

The  story  is  told, 
The  windows  are  darkened, 

The  hearth-stone  is  cold. 

Darker  and  darker 

The  black  shadows  fall; 
Sleep  and  oblivion 

Reign  over  all." 
229 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 
Again,  in  Bruges,  we  hear  the  bells :  — 

"  Low  at  times  and  loud  at  times, 
And  changing  like  a  poet's  rhymes, 
Rang  the  beautiful  wild  chimes 
From  the  Belfry  in  the  market 
Of  the  ancient  town  of  Bruges." 

At  Wartburg,  he  recalls  the  tale  of  Walter  Von 
der  Vogelweid,  the  Minnesinger,  and  his  bequest  to 
the  birds.  We  may  not  tell  "  Where  repose  the 
poet's  bones," — 

"  But  around  the  vast  cathedral, 
By  sweet  echoes  multiplied, 
Still  the  birds  repeat  the  legend, 
And  the  name  of  Vogelweid.'* 

At  Nuremberg, — 

"  Quaint  old   town   of   toil   and   traffic, 
Quaint  old  town  of  art  and  song," 

he  "  sang  in  thought  his  careless  lay,"  and  gathered 
from  memories  of  Albrecht  Diirer,  "  the  Evangelist 
of  Art,"  and  Hans  Sach,  the  "  cobbler-bard,"— 

"  The  nobility  of  labour, —  the  long  pedigree  of  toil." 

Longfellow  says  somewhere  in  speaking  of  his 
travel :  — 

230 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

"  In  fancy  I  can  hear  again 
The  Alpine  torrent  roar, 
The  mule  bells  on  the  hills  of  Spain, 
The  Sea  at  Elsinore. 

I  see  the  convent's  gleaming  walls 

Rise  from  its  grove  of  pine, 
And  towers  of  ol'd  Cathedral  tall, 

And  castles  by  the  Rhine." 

So  in  his  poems  he  voiced  various  aspirations,  both 
native  and  foreign;  but  as  we  study  into  his  life,  we 
find  his  spirit  more  and  more  dominated  by  his 
"  Christus."  It  was  a  theme  upon  which  he  pon- 
dered many  years,  for  it  was  in  1841,  that  he  wrote 
in  his  diary:  "  This  evening  it  has  come  into  my 
mind  to  undertake  a  long  and  elaborate  poem  by 
the  name  of  l  Christ,'  "  and  thirty-two  years  later, 
in  1863,  the  poem  was  finished.  It  is  a  trilogy  — 
embodying  the  apostolic,  the  mediaeval,  and  the  Puri- 
tan conception  of  the  Christ.  The  mediaeval,  "  The 
Golden  Legend,"  came  out  first,  in  1851.  This 
enters  very  intimately  into  the  temper  of  the  monk 
in  the  age  when  the  land  was  "  white  with  convent- 
walls  " ;  when 

"  Men  climb  the  consecrated  stair 

With  weary  feet  and  bleeding  hearts; 
And  leave  the  world  and  its  delights, 

Its  passions,  struggles  and  despair, 
For  contemplation  and  for  prayer 
In  cloister  cells  of  cenobites." 
231 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

This  was  followed,  in  1868,  by  the  "  New  England 
Tragedies,"  in  which  from  a  study  of  old  colonial 
authors,  he  illustrated  his  theme  with  the  persecution 
of  Quakers  and  witches.  We  remember  how  Leo- 
nardo da  Vinci,  in  his  "  Last  Supper,"  painted  the 
head  of  Christ  last  —  so  Longfellow  left  his 
"  Christus  "  for  his  final  conception,  though  it  came 
first  in  order.  "  The  Christus  "  was  published  in 
1863  ;  and  at  the  conclusion  of  all,  he  writes:  — 

"  My  work  is  finished ;  I  am  strong 
In  faith  and  hope  and  charity; 
For  I  have  written  the  things  I  see, 
The  things  that  have  been  and  shall  be, 
Conscious  of  right,  nor  fearing  wrong ; 
Because  I  am  in  love  with  love     .     .     . 
.     .     .     And  love  is  life." 

Was  it  after  reading  u  The  Christus "  that  one 
has  beautifully  named  Longfellow  "  The  St.  John 
of  our  American  Apostles  "  ? 

During  all  these  years,  Longfellow  dwelt  in  the 
old  "  Cragie  House,"  with  his  wife,  and  his  chil- 
dren :  — 

"  Grave  Alice  and  laughing  Allegra, 
•  And  Edith  with  golden  hair." 

The  library  kept  by  his  daughter  as  in  the  olden  day 
is  lined  with  pictures  and  antique  book-cases.  Upon 
the  standing-desk,  in  the  window  where  he  used  to 
write,  is  his  statuette  of  Goethe.  Upon  the  round 

232 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

table,  in  the  centre,  are  the  inkstands  of  Coleridge 
and  Tom  Moore  and  his  own  quill-pen. 

There,  too,  is  his  deep  armchair  where  he  so  often 
mused  before  he  wrote;  and  another  chair,  made 
from  the  wood  of  "  The  Spreading  Chestnut  Tree." 
This  was  presented  to  him  on  his  seventy-second 
birthday  by  the  Cambridge  children.  The  library 
is  rich  in  happy  reminiscences.  Here  often  came  the 
poet's  lifelong  friends  —  among  them  Felton,  Whit- 
tier,  Lowell,  Hawthorne,  Agassiz,  Holmes,  and 
Bayard  Taylor. 

Specially  in  later  life,  the  "  rosy-cheeked  patri- 
arch "  grew  to  be  a  familiar  figure  in  Cambridge; 
and  he  tried  to  be  kind  to  relic-hunters  and  even  to 
autograph-seekers.  One  day  an  Englishman  intro- 
duced himself  with  this  remark:  "  In  other  countries, 
you  know,  we  go  to  see  ruins  and  the  like;  but  you 
have  no  ruins  in  your  country,  and  I  thought  —  I 
thought  —  Fd  call  and  see  you !  "  Once  he  had  a 
request,  asking  him  to  copy  his  poem,  "  Break,  break, 
break,"  for  the  writer;  again  a  stranger  called  to  in- 
quire if  Shakespeare  lived  in  the  neighbourhood,  and 
he  replied  that  he  knew  "  no  such  person." 

But  he  enjoyed,  also,  a  far  pleasanter  kind  of  pop- 
ularity, as  when  Professor  Kneeland,  returning  from 
Iceland,  bore  back  the  following  message :  ' (  Tell 
Longfellow  that  we  love  him,  that  Iceland  knows 
him  by  heart!  "  And  a  workman  in  the  streets  of 
London  stopped  him  to  ask  "  to  shake  hands  with 

233 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

the  man  who  made  the  *  Psalm  of  Life  '  " ;  and  an 
Englishman  once  wrote  of  him  as  "  The  bard  whose 
sweet  songs  have  more  than  aught  else  bound  two 
worlds  together  " ;  and  George  William  Curtis  tells 
us  that  Longfellow  is  so  popular  because  he  expresses 
his  sentiment  in  such  a  simple,  melodious  man- 
ner. 

In  July,  1 86 1,  Longfellow's  wife  was  burned  to 
death  before  the  eyes  of  her  family;  and  in  his  sud- 
den distress  at  the  shock,  he  sought  refuge  in  making 
a  translation  of  "  Dante."  He  studied  it  line  by  line, 
and  has  preserved  both  form  and  spirit  of  the  "  Di- 
vine Comedy." 

In  1868,  once  more  he  went  to  Europe,  with  his 
daughter;  visited  Tennyson  in  the  Isle  of  Wight; 
received  degrees  from  Oxford  and  Cambridge;  and 
passed  the  winter  in  Rome.  England  lavished  atten- 
tion upon  our  poet,  and  his  bust  stands  to-day  in 
Westminster  Abbey. 

His  lines,  written  in  the  after-glow  of  his  life,  in- 
creased in  depth  and  fullness,  and  this  is  evinced  in 
his  "  Morituri  Salutamus,"  which  he  read  on  the 
fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  graduation  from  Bowdoin 
College,  before  the  remaining  members  of  his  class, 
and  Professor  Packard,  the  one  surviving  instructor. 
It  opens  as  follows :  — 

' '  O  Caesar,  we  who  are  about  to  die 
Salute  you ! '  was  the  gladiator's  cry 

234 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

In  the  arena,  standing  face  to  face 

With  death  and  with  the  Roman  populace," 

and  on  March  twenty-fourth,  1882,  the  bells  of 
Cambridge  tolled  out,  in  seventy-five  strokes,  the 
death-knell  of  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow. 

At  his  public  funeral  service,  his  brother,  Rev. 
Samuel  Longfellow,  read  the  accompanying  lines 
from  "  Hiawatha  " :  — 

"  He    is   dead,   the    sweet   musician ! 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers! 
He  has  gone  from  us  forever, 
He  has  moved  a  little  nearer 
To  the  Master  of  all  music, 
To  the  Master  of  all  singing!  " 

and  his  remains  were  laid  in  Mt.  Auburn  Cemetery, 
and  there  went  up  a  cry  of  personal  loss  both  at  home 
and  abroad;  above  all,  from  the  children,  who  were 
so  dear  to  him.  They  claimed  him  as  their  own  — 
for  they  loved  his  wonderful  songs  and  marvellous 
tales.  They  could  understand  his  meaning.  Schools 
all  over  the  land  reverently  draped  their  halls  in 
memory,  and  some  yet  observe  Longfellow's  birth- 
day, February  twenty-seventh. 

And  the  common  people  mourned;  for  to  them  he 
had  taught  optimism  and  aspiration.  This  we  may 
realise  as  we  bring  to  mind  some  of  his  helpful 
tenets :  — 

235 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  But  to  act  that  each  to-morrow 
Finds  us  farther  than  to-day." 


"  Know  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is, 
To  suffer  and  be  strong." 


"  Lives  of  great  men  all  remind  us, 
We  can  make  our  lives  sublime, 
And  departing,  leave  behind  us, 
Footprints  on  the  sands  of  time." 

:i  The  heights  by  great  men  reached  and  kept, 

Were  not  attained  by  sudden  flight; 

But  they,  while  their  companions  slept, 

Were  toiling  upward  in  the  night." 

Longfellow  had  his  critics  —  and  who  has  not? 
Poe  thought  his  poems  didactic  rather  than  beautiful; 
others,  that  they  were  too  diffuse  or  imitative,  and 
using  too  much  freedom  with  dates  and  facts  of  his- 
tory. But  his  was  truly,  as  Stedman  says,  "  The 
gospel  of  good-will  set  to  music."  He  had  a  song 
to  sing  to  humanity,  and  he  sang  it ! 

His  fellow-authors  grieved  for  him  and  talked 
about  him  to  one  another.  Lowell  writes :  — 

"  His  nature  was  consecrated  ground,  into  which  no  un- 
clean spirit  could  ever  enter  " ; 

and  Professor  Norton :  - 

"  The  sweetness,  the  gentleness,  the  grace,  the  purity,  the 
humanity  of  his  verse  were  as  the  image  of  his  own  soul." 

And  Stedman  says  further :  - 

236 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

"  I  see  him,  a  silver-haired  minstrel,  touching  melodious 
keys,  playing  and  singing  in  the  twilight  within  sound  of 
the  note  of  the  sea.  There  he  lingers  late,  the  curfew-bell 
has  tolled  and  the  darkness  closes  round,  till  at  fast  that 
tender  voice  is  silent,  and  he  softly  moves  into  his  rest." 

And  Richardson  adds  one  final  word:  — 

"  His  song  shall  last  until  another  shall  sing  the  same 
song  better." 


SONNET  ON  CHAUCER 

An  old  man  in  a  lodge  within  a  park; 

The  chamber  walls  depicted  all  around 
With  portraitures  of  huntsman,  hawk,  and  hound, 

And  the  hurt  deer.     He  listeneth  to  the  lark, 
Whose  song  comes  with  the  sunshine  through  the  dark 

Of  painted  glass  in  leaden  lattice  bound; 
He  listeneth  and  he  laugheth  at  the  sound, 

Then  writeth  in  a  book  like  any  clerk, 
He  is  the  Poet  of  the  Dawn,  who  wrote 

The  Canterbury  Tales,  and  his  old  age 

Made  beautiful  with  song;  and  as  I  read 
I  hear  the  crowing  cock,  I  hear  the  note 

Of  lark  and  linnet,  and  from  every  page 

Rise  odours  of  ploughed  field  or  flowery  mead." 

—  Longfelloiv. 

THE  ARROW  AND  THE  SONG 

"  I  shot  an  arrow  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For,  so  swiftly  it  flew,  the  sight 
Could  not  follow  it  in  its  flight. 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

I  breathed  a  song  into  the  air, 
It  fell  to  earth,  I  knew  not  where; 
For  who  has  sight  so  keen  and  strong, 
That  it  can  follow  the  flight  of  song? 

Long,  long  afterward,  in  an  oak 
I  found  the  arrow,  still  unbroke; 
And  the  song,  from  beginning  to  end, 
I  found  again  in  the  heart  of  a  friend." 

—  Longfellow. 

SERENADE  —  FROM  "  THE  SPANISH 
STUDENT  " 

"  Stars  of  the  summer  night ! 

Far  in  yon  azure  deeps, 
Hide,  hide  your  golden  light  1 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps ! 

Moon  of  the  summer  night! 

Far  down  yon  western  steeps, 
Sink,  sink  in  silver  light! 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps! 

Dream  of  the  summer  night! 

Where  yonder  woodbine  creept, 
Fold,  fold  thy  pinions  light  1 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps! 

238 


HENRY   WADSWORTH    LONGFELLOW 

Wind  of  the  summer  night! 

Tell  her,  her  lover  keeps 
Watch !  while  in  slumbers  light 

She  sleeps! 
My  lady  sleeps! 

Sleeps!" 

—  Longfellow. 


339 


XXV 

JAMES    RUSSELL    LOWELL     (1819-1891) 

THERE  stands  to-day,  in  Cambridge,  an  ancestral 
colonial  mansion  called  "  Elmwood,"  because  the 
roadway  to  its  entrance  was  originally  arched  by 
noble  elms.  Here,  on  February  twenty-second, 
1819,  James  Russell  Lowell  was  born;  here  he  al- 
ways lived;  and  here  he  died  on  August  twelfth, 
1891.  He  belonged  to  a  distinguished  family.  An 
uncle  introduced  cotton-spinning  into  a  neighbouring 
town,  and  the  busy,  populous  city  is  christened 
Lowell,  in  his  honour.  Another  relative  made  a 
will  at  the  Temple  of  Luxor,  in  Egypt,  in  which  he 
left  an  educational  endowment,  that  brought  into  be- 
ing Lowell  Institute  in  Boston;  and  James  Russell - 
poet,  critic,  professor,  lecturer,  editor,  essayist,  dip- 
lomat and  speaker  on  occasion  —  bravely  upheld  the 
family  name.  He  was  the  son  of  a  "  learned,  saintly, 
and  discreet  Unitarian  minister  of  Boston."  His 
versatile,  poetic  mother  of  Scotch  descent,  early 
taught  her  children  to  love  the  ballads  of  the  "  North 
Countrie,"  and  to  her,  "  the  patron  of  his  youthful 
muse,"  he  dedicated  his  first  effusion. 

The  lad,  after  the  fashion  of  the  day,  attended  a 
dame's  school,  and  he  later  reminisced  over  it  as  fol- 
lows :  — 

240 


JAMES    RUSSELL   LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

"  Propped  on  the  marsh,  a  dwelling  now  I  see 
The  humble  school-house  of  my  A,  B,  C, 
Where  well-drilled  urchins,  each  behind   his  tire, 
Waited  in  ranks  the  wicked  command  to  fire; 
Then  all  together,  when  the  signal  came, 
Discharged  their  a-b  abs  against  the  dame." 

James  was  a  quiet  lad,  devoted  to  reading,  and  in 
due  time,  following  the  family  tradition,  he  entered 
Harvard.  Here  he  read  everything  he  liked,  in- 
stead of  ordained  text-books;  and  for  this  he  was 
rusticated  to  Concord,  where  he  studied  under  Dr. 
Ripley,  and  he  enjoyed  meeting  there  a  galaxy  of 
authors  much  better  than  the  definite  work  arranged 
for  him  in  college.  His  fellow-students,  at  Cam- 
bridge, who  had  read  his  verses,  thought  him  inspired 
with  divine  fire,  and  they  flattered  him  by  appointing 
him  class-poet;  and  his  father,  hearing  this,  sadly 
exclaimed:  "  Oh,  dear,  James  promised  me  that  he 
would  quit  writing  poetry  and  go  to  work!  "  One 
poem  was  a  satire  on  Transcendentalism,  to  which, 
after  his  marriage,  he  became  a  devotee. 

In  1838,  upon  receiving  his  degree,  he  made  a 
nominal  study  of  law,  but  it  proved  distasteful,  so 
he  turned  his  life-thought  to  literature.  But  for 
some  years  how  to  earn  a  living  was  a  problem.  He 
published  a  slender  volume  of  his  verses,  and  called 
it  "  A  Year's  Work."  These  he  later  denounced  as 

"  The  firstlings  of  my  muse, 
Poor   windfalls   of    unripe   experience." 
241 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Then  with  Poe  and  Hawthorne,  he  attempted  to 
establish  a  magazine,  but  only  three  numbers  were 
issued,  and  he  also  gave  a  lecture  in  Concord  for 
which  he  received  five  dollars.  Besides,  in  1844,  he 
married  a  wife.  This  was  a  Miss  White,  a  woman 
of  great  loveliness,  but  of  decided  views,  both  tran- 
scendental and  anti-slavery.  She  lived  only  nine 
years,  but  this  was  quite  long  enough  to  convert  her 
young  husband  from  a  cold,  imitative,  literary  style, 
to  such  a  heart-love  for  brotherhood  and  patriotism 
that  in  his  new  vision  of  "  The  Present  Crisis,"  he 
exclaimed :  — 

"  Truth  forever  on  the  scaffold,  wrong  forever  on  the  throne ; 

Yet  that  scaffold  sways  the  future,  and  behind  the  dim  un- 
known, 

Standeth  God  within  the  shadow,  keeping  watch  above 
His  own." 

And  now  life  and  fuller  work  and  real  success, 
broadened  out  before  Lowell.  His  second  volume 
contained  some  of  his  most  charming  fancies. 
Among  them  "  Rhoecus,"  the  Greek  legend  of  the 
wood-nymph  and  the  bee;  and  "  A  Legend  of  Brit- 
tany," considered  by  Poe  the  best  American  poem. 
It  is  made  in  flowery  lines,  but  the  tale,  somehow, 
lacks  distinctness. 

Lowell  called  "  1848  "  his  "  annus  mirabilis,"  and 
it  was  indeed  the  wonderful  year  of  his  life,  for  in  it 
appeared  all  three  of  his  masterpieces:  "  The  Vision 

242 


JAMES    RUSSELL   LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

of  Sir  Launfal,"  "  The  Fable  for  Critics,"  and  the 
first  series  of  "  The  Biglow  Papers." 

Sir  Launfal's  vision  embodies  the  search  for  the 
Holy  Grail,  that  legend  so  dear  to  romancers.  It 
was  a  sudden  inspiration,  for  it  was  completed  in 
forty-eight  hours,  during  which  he  hardly  ate  or 
slept;  and  the  portrayal  of  the  noble  lesson  of  sym- 
pathy and  suffering  was  most  sincere  and  reverent. 
It  would  be  difficult  to  decide  which  passage  is  most 
popular  —  the  one  beginning :  — 

"  And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days; 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays: 
Whether  we  look,  or  whether  we  listen, 
We  hear  life  murmur,  or  see  it  glisten:" 

or  that  other,  conveying  its  tender  lesson :  — 

"  Not  what  we  give,  but  what  we  share, 
For  the  gift  without  the  giver  is  bare. 
Who  gives  himself  with  his  alms  feeds  three, 
Himself,  his  hungering  neighbour,  and  Me.'* 

Lowell  turns  most  easily  from  spiritual  sentiment 
to  frolicsome  mood,  as  we  discover  on  opening  his 
"  Fable  for  Critics."  This  audacious,  playful  sur- 
vey of  contemporary  authors  was  first  made  for 
his  own  amusement,  and  then  he  allowed  it  to  appear 

243 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

anonymously,  and,  as  one  has  said,  he  "  flecked  him- 
self with  his  own  whip  "  as  follows :  — 

"  There  is  Lowell,  who's  striving  Parnassus  to  climb 
With  a  whole  bale  of  isms  tied  together  with  rhyme, 
He  might  get  on  alone,  spite  of  brambles  and  boulders, 
But  he  can't  with  that  bundle  he  has  on  his  shoulders, 
The  top  of  the  hill  he  will  ne'er  come  nigh  reaching 
Till  he  learns  the  distinction  'twixt  singing  and  preaching." 

The  poem,  composed  by  one  of  the  youngest  of  the 
guild  of  letters,  is  at  once  a  masterpiece  of  humour, 
satire,  and  prophecy. 

"  The  Biglow  Papers,"  which  Whittier  said 
u  could  only  be  written  in  Yankee  New  England,  by 
a  New  England  Yankee/'  were  in  two  series.  In 
both,  Hosea  Biglow,  a  shrewd-witted,  down-East 
Yankee,  attempts  in  the  broadest  dialect  to  rouse  his 
fellow-citizens  to  military  fervour.  Birdofredum 
Sawin,  and  the  preacher,  Homer  Wilbur,  insert  their 
original  ideas. 

In  the  first  series,  these  views  relate  to  the  Mexican 
War,  in  connection  with  our  claim  on  Texas.  They 
are  a  satire  on  Daniel  Webster  and  his  party,  for 
yielding  to  the  demands  of  the  South.  The  opening 
paper  contains  the  lines :  — 

"  Massachusetts,   God  forgive  her, 
She's  a-kneelin'  with  the  rest, 
She,  thet  ough'  to  ha'  clung  forever 
In  her  grand  old  eagle-nest." 
244 


JAMES    RUSSELL   LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

These  sentiments  did  not  stop  the  war;  but  they 
voiced  the  feeling  of  the  people  and  well  illustrate 
the  wisdom,  beauty  and  humour,  which  Lowell  de- 
lighted to  express  in  dialect  form.  And  among  the 
episodes  introduced  to  relieve  the  tension,  are  some 
lyric  strains ;  as,  for  example,  when  Hawthorne  asked 
Lowell  to  try  his  hand  at  Yankee  love-making,  and 
Lowell,  in  response,  wrote  "  The  Courtin',"  which 
is  introduced  between  the  first  and  second  series  of 
"  The  Biglow  Papers."  The  delicious  bit  of 
"  courtin'  "  took  place  on  a  "  night  all  white  and 
still,"  when 

"  Zekle  crep'  up  quite  unbeknown 

An'  peeked  in  thru  the  winder, 
An'  there  sot  Huldy  all  alone, 
'Ith  no  one  nigh  to  hender." 

The  second  part  of  the  "  Papers  "  was  not  printed 
in  book  form  until  twenty  years  after  the  first;  and 
in  this,  Hosea  Biglow's  humour  is  more  grim  than 
before,  as  he  aims  his  satiric  weapons  against  both 
slavery  and  the  Civil  War.  Among  other  things, 
he  insists  that  the  quarrel  is  a  family  one  and  criti- 
cises England  for  daring  to  interfere  with  what  a 
free,  high-minded  people  hold  sacred.  The  most 
caustic  satire  is  Brother  Jonathan's  protest  to  John 
Bull,  in  which  he  asserts :  — 

"  It  don't  seem  hardly  right,  John, 
When  both  my  hands  was  full, 
245 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

To  stump  me  to  a  fight,  John  — 
Your  cousin,  too,  John  Bull! 

We  know  we've  got  a  cause,  John, 

Thet's  honest,  just,  an'  true; 
We  thought  'twould  win  applause,  John, 

Ef  nowhere  else,  from  you." 

Hosea  Biglow  is  as  unique  in  literature  as  Leather 
Stocking,  and  his  words,  in  their  swinging  rhyme,  are 
a  splendid  thrust  at  scorn  for  cowardice,  and  show 
deep  insight  into  truth.  They  are  full  of  proverbial 
hits,  and,  more  than  anything  else  in  our  literature, 
immortalise  the  Yankee  character  and  dialect. 
They  naturally  caused  great  excitement  both  North 
and  South.  Lowell  once  said:  "  I  am  sorry  that  I 
began  by  making  Hosea  such  a  detestable  speller." 
We  are  sorry,  too,  for  if  it  were  only  easier  to  under- 
stand the  dialect,  we  might  better  realise  what  a  bril- 
liant addition  "  The  Biglow  Papers  "  made  to  the 
serio-comic  literature  of  the  world. 

In  1857,  Lowell  took  his  family  abroad,  and  his 
little  son,  Walter,  died  in  Rome.  On  the  home 
voyage,  they  met  Thackeray,  and  with  the  English 
master,  Lowell  formed  one  of  the  pleasant  friend- 
ships of  his  life,  for  they  had  much  in  common. 

But  after  his  return,  another  sorrow  came  to  him; 
his  inspiring  wife  died,  leaving  him  with  one  little 
daughter,  and  it  was  well  for  him  that  new  duties 
soon  claimed  his  interest ;  for  on  Longfellow's  resig- 


JAMES   RUSSELL   LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

nation  in  1855,  Lowell  was  called  upon  to  succeed 
him  in  the  chair  of  modern  languages  and  polite 
literature  at  Cambridge,  and  he  was  given  two  pre- 
paratory years  abroad. 

In  1857,  he  married  again,  and  also  entered  upon 
his  professional  career,  and  no  man  was  ever  better 
fitted  to  lecture  on  the  whole  range  of  literature; 
usually  stimulating,  sometimes  indolent,  he  was  most 
popular  with  the  students.  His  lectures  on  Chaucer, 
Spenser,  Shakespeare,  Dryden,  Pope,  and  others, 
were  the  result  of  profound  investigation  —  and  on 
"  Dante  "  he  spent  twenty  years,  before  he  gave  it 
to  his  class.  It  is  pleasant  to  think  of  both  Long- 
fellow and  Lowell,  who  lived  near  together,  holding 
"  sweet  converse,"  and  linked  for  so  many  years  with 
Harvard,  for  Lowell  retained  his  professorship  until 
1877. 

Ever  since  his  failure  in  early  life,  Lowell  had 
meditated  on  again  trying  a  serial  venture;  and  in 
1857,  he  started  "The  Atlantic  Monthly,"  in  which 
he  decidedly  advanced  the  standard  of  magazine 
writing.  In  this,  his  second  series  of  "  Biglow 
Papers  "  came  out,  one  by  one;  also,  in  1865,  his  stir- 
ring "  Harvard  Commemoration  Ode,"  written  in 
honour  of  those  who  fell  in  the  battles  of  the  Civil 
War,  and  read  at  the  festival  to  welcome  the  sur- 
viving students  and  graduates  on  their  return. 

Lowell  remained  as  the  head  of  "  The  Atlantic  " 
for  four  years,  and  in  1863,  joined  Charles  Eliot 

247 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

Norton  as  an  editor  of  "  The  North  American  Re- 
view." To  both  of  these  magazines,  he  contributed 
not  only  poems  but  essays  on  many  subjects,  which 
revealed  him  as  a  man  of  the  very  broadest  culture, 
with  remarkable  gift  of  expression.  Such  were  hu 
"  Fireside  Travels,"  "Among  my  Books,"  and 
"  From  my  Study  Windows." 

His  lectures  and  essays  grew  out  of  each  other; 
some  were  arranged  for  political  questions,  while 
others  were  suggested  by  his  English  dramatists. 
These  essays,  very  varied  in  kind,  make  up  the  body 
of  his  prose  writings.  Sometimes  they  show  want  of 
perspective,  and  lack  in  continuity  and  sustained 
thought;  but  many  of  them  are  most  attractive,  and 
interest  even  those  not  usually  fond  of  reading. 
They  are  full  of  suggestions  to  seek  further.  They 
enliven  the  fancy,  too,  as  in  the  following  quotation 
from  "  At  Sea":- 

"  I  sometimes  sit  and  pity  Noah,  but  even  he  had  this 
advantage  over  all  succeeding  navigators,  that,  whenever 
he  landed,  he  was  sure  to  get  no  ill  news  from  home.  He 
should  be  canonized  as  the  patron  saint  of  newspaper  cor- 
respondents, being  the  only  man  who  ever  had  the  very  last 
authentic  news  from  everywhere!" 

Lowell's  "  Essays  "  furnish  a  far  stronger  intellect- 
ual stimulus  than  the  gossipy  articles  to  catch  the 
fancy  which  are  offered  us  to-day  by  the  alert,  modern 
journalist. 

248 


JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

In  poetry,  his  patriotic  verses  stand  first,  for  with 
Whittier,  he  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  in  a  fight  for 
American  ideals.  With  the  "  Harvard  Commem- 
oration Ode,"  three  others  are  ranked;  one  delivered 
in  1873,  on  the  centenary  of  the  year  in  which  Wash- 
ington took  command  of  the  forces  under  the  now 
historic  Cambridge  "  elm  ";  another,  in  1875,  on  the 
centenary  of  the  fight  at  Concord  Bridge;  and  in 
1876,  a  centennial  "Fourth  of  July"  ode.  These 
are  "  the  cap-sheaves  "  of  the  author's  achievement. 

And  if  patriotism  was  a  "  ruling  passion,"  Nature 
was  surely  another  —  Nature  that  always  roused  him 
with  child-like  joy;  a  charmed  feeling  animates  his 
lyrics  on  the  trees  and  birds  and  flowers  of  Elmwood 
—  the  delicate  crispness  and  alert  grace  of  his  birch- 
trees,  "  the  go-betweens  of  rustic  lovers."  The  bob- 
olink he  immortalises  as  Shelley  does  the  skylark; 
watch  and  listen,  as 

"  Half-hid  in  tip-top  apple-blooms  he  swings, 

Or  climbs  against  the  breeze  with  quiverin'  wings, 
Or  given  way  to  't  in  a  mock  despair, 

Runs  down,  a  brook  o'  laughter  thru  the  air." 

Dearest  of  all  is  the  dandelion  —  the 

"  Common  flower  that  grows  beside  the  way 
Fringing  the  dusty  road  with  harmless  gold  "— * 

and  in  very  ecstasy  he  exclaims :  — 

249 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

"  My  childhood's  earliest  thoughts  are  linked  with  thee  ; 

The  sight  of  thee  calls  back  the  robin's  song, 
Who  from  the  dark  old  tree 

Beside  the  door  sang  clearly  all  day  long, 
And  I  serene  in  childish  piety, 

Listened  as  if  I  heard  an  angel  song 

With  news  from  Heaven,  which  he  could  bring 
Fresh  every  day  to  my  contented  ears, 

When  birds  and  flowers  and  I  were  happy  peers." 

His  poems  are  perfectly  finished  and  among  them 
are  many  gems.  Perhaps  the  best  collection  was 
"Heartsease  and  Rue,"  published  in  1888,  opening 
with  the  memorial  to  Agassiz — one  of  the  world's 
noted  elegies. 

In-  1877,  Lowell  was  appointed  Minister  to  Spain 
as  a  fitting  tribute  to  his  brilliant  social  and  intellect- 
ual qualities;  and  later,  he  was  transferred  to  Eng- 
land. He  was,  as  we  have  already  seen,  an  intense 
American;  and  in  an  address  at  Birmingham,  on 
"  Democracy,"  he  did  not  hesitate  to  enforce  his 
principles  as  strongly  as  years  earlier,  in  the  protest 
of  Brother  Jonathan  to  John  Bull. 

But  he  was,  also,  a  man  of  unusual  tact  and  dignity; 
a  speaker  of  rare  felicity  —  he  was  constantly  called 
upon  for  public  addresses  and  after-dinner  talks. 
The  Queen  deeply  honoured  him,  and  the  people 
always  welcomed  him  as  "  His  Excellency,  the  Am- 
bassador of  American  Literature,  to  the  Court  of 
Shakespeare."  And  how  proud  America  was  of  her 
"  Representative  Man  of  Letters  "  1 

250 


JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

And  when  he  had  grandly  completed  his  mission, 
he  returned  to  Elmwood,  to  its 

"  Sequestered  nooks, 
And  all  the  sweet  serenity  of  books." 

He  met  his  "  garden  acquaintances,"  received  the 
catbirds7  welcome,  and  with  his  familiars,  the  blue- 
birds, shared  among  the  elms  and  willows  his  books 
and  his  pipe.  He  was,  in  a  way,  a  recluse,  but  he 
never  failed  to  make  time  for  his  u  friendships  built 
firm  'gainst  flood  and  wind";  and  he  held  close 
intercourse  with  Wendell  Phillips  and  Garrison 
and  Agassiz  and  Whittier  and  Longfellow  and 
Motley  and  Parkman  and  his  special  familiar 
Holmes. 

His  library  is  preserved  as  he  left  it,  with  family 
portraits  and  chair  and  desk  and  even  his  clay-pipe, 
and  the  crowded  cases  filled  with  well-thumbed  vol- 
umes. High  beneath  the  roof  of  Elmwood  was  his 
study,  where  he  slept  as  a  boy,  and  where  he  also  did 
much  writing;  and  in  this  room  one  window  looks 
right  over  on  to  Mt.  Auburn,  not  •  far  distant.  His 
second  wife  had  died  in  England,  and  here  at  Elm- 
wood,  or  at  his  daughter's  home,  in  Southboro,  he 
passed  his  last  years,  in  poetic  seclusion,  still  writing, 
sometimes  lecturing. 

He  died  at  Elmwood,  in  1891.  Among  his  pall- 
bearers were  his  cherished  friends,  Holmes,  Howells, 
Curtis,  and  President  Eliot,  and  he  was  buried  in  Mt. 

251 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Auburn,  not  far  from  Longfellow,  and  almost  in 
sight  of  his  study-window.  He  was  mourned  every- 
where in  America,  and  memorial  services  were  held 
in  Westminster  Abbey,  which  gave  token  of  the 
abiding  impress  he  had  made  on  the  heart  of  Eng- 
land. 

While  Lowell  had  irrepressible  humour,  he  does 
not  appeal  to  so  many  young  people  as  Longfellow. 
He  is,  perhaps,  too  profound;  and  he  has  a  curious 
habit  of  shifting  from  the  serious  to  the  burlesque, 
and  back  again  to  the  serious,  that  often  puzzles  the 
reader;  and  he  did  possess  some  impulsive  oddities 
of  temper.  He  was,  however,  as  one  has  said: 
"  The  best  of  company  in  the  best  of  company."  He 
believed  in  his  own  opinions,  and  loved  to  talk  while 
his  admiring  friends  would  sit  about  him  and  listen 
— and  his  letters  to  these  friends  are  indeed  delight- 
ful. 

Surely  we  have  found  him  a  versatile  man  —  this 
"  poet,  critic,  professor,  lecturer,  editor,  essayist, 
diplomat,  and  speaker  on  occasion  " ;  and  this  versa- 
tility may  be  well  exemplified  by  adding  some  of  his 
proverbial  sayings,  which,  like  those  of  Emerson,  are 
fresh  and  vigorous  to-day :  — 

"  He's  been  true  to  one  party,  an*  thet  is  himself." 
"  New  times  demand  new  measures  and  new  men." 

"  A  ginooine  statesman  must  be  on  his  guard 

Ef  he  must  hev  beliefs  not  to  b'leeve  them  tu  hard." 
252 


JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

"  In  general  those  who  have  nothing  to  say  contrive  to 
spend  the  longest  time  in  doing  it." 

"  Nothing  takes  longer  in  saying  than  anything  else." 

"  Be  a  man  among  men,  not  a  humbug  among  humbugs." 

"  They  are  slaves  who  dare  not  be 
In  the  right  with  two  or  three." 

"  Greatly  begin !  though  thou  have  time 
But  for  a  line,  be  that  sublime, — 
Not  failure,  but  low  aim,  is  crime." 

ALADDIN 

When  I  was  a  beggarly  boy, 

And  lived  in  a  cellar  damp, 
I  had  not  a  friend  nor  a  toy, 

But  I  had  Aladdin's  lamp; 
When  I  could  not  sleep  for  cold, 

I  had  fire  enough  in  my  brain, 
And  builded  with  roofs  of  gold 

My  beautiful  castles  in  Spain! 

Since  then  I  have  toiled  day  and  night, 

I  have  money  and  power  good  store, 
But  I'd  give  all  my  lamps  of  silver  bright 

For  the  one  that  is  mine  no  more; 
Take,  Fortune,  whatever  you  choose, 

You  gave,  and  may  snatch  again; 
I  have  nothing  't  would  pain  me  to  lose, 

For  I  own  no  more  castles  in  Spain ! 

—  Lowell. 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

THE  FIRST  SNOW-FALL 

"  The  snow  had  begun  in  the  gloaming, 

And  busily  all  the  night 
Had  been  heaping  field  and  highway 
With  a  silence  deep  and  white. 

Every  pine  and  fir  and  hemlock 

Wore  ermine  too  dear  for  an  earl, 
And  the  poorest  twig  on  the  elm-tree 

Was  ridged  inch-deep  with  pearl, 

From  sheds  new-roofed  with  Carrara 

Came  Chanticleer's  muffled  crow, 
The  stiff  rails  were  softened  to  swan's-down, 

And  still  fluttered  down  the  snow. 

I  stood  and  watched  by  the  window 

The  noiseless  work  of  the  sky, 
And  the  sudden  flurries  of  snow-birds, 

Like  brown  leaves  whirling  by. 

I  thought  of  a  mound  in  sweet  Auburn 

Where  a  little  headstone  stood ; 
How  the  flakes  were  folding  it  gently, 

As  did  robins  the  babes  in  the  wood. 

Up  spoke  our  own  little  Mabel, 

Saying,  '  Father,  who  makes  it  snow  ? ' 

And  I  told  of  the  good  All-father 
Who  cares  for  us  here  below. 

Again  I  looked  at  the  snow-fall, 

And  thought  of  the  leaden  sky 
That  arched  o'er  our  first  great  sorrow, 

When  that  mound  was  heaped  so  high. 
254 


JAMES   RUSSELL  LOWELL    (1819-1891) 

I  remembered  the  gradual  patience 
That  fell  from  that  cloud  like  snow, 

Flake  by  flake,  healing  and  hiding 
The  scar  of  our  deep-plunged  woe. 

And  again  to  the  child  I  whispered, 

'  The  snow  that  husheth  all, 
Darling,  the  merciful  Father 

Alone  can  make  it  fall ! ' 

Then,  with  eyes  that  saw  not,  I  kissed  her; 

And  she,  kissing  back,  could  not  know 
That  my  kiss  was  given  to  her  sister, 

Folded  close  under  deepening  snow." 

- —  Lowell. 


255 


XXVI 

OLIVER    WENDELL    HOLMES     (1809-1894) 

EMERSON,  the  seer  —  Whittier,  the  patriotic  bard 

—  Hawthorne,  the  romancer  —  Lowell,  the  critic  — 
and  Longfellow,  laureate  of  the  human  heart  —  were 
leaders  of  the  most  gifted  group  of  men  of  letters 
that  has  appeared  in  this  country.     About  the  middle 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  they  immortalised  Concord, 
made  Boston,    for  a   second  time,   "  The  Literary 
Hub,"  and  did  very  much  towards  creating  a  litera- 
ture that  educated  the  people  to  a  taste  for  the  best. 
They  were  men  of  great  variety  of  attainment  —  and 
how  the  libraries  of  the  land  expanded  as  they  wrote ! 
Just  one  more  member  and  the  group  is  complete. 
He  must  be  a  humourist  to  make  the  rest  laugh 

—  and  an  optimist,  to  teach  them  to  pay  proper 
tribute,   one   to   the   other  —  and   Oliver   Wendell 
Holmes  steps  forth  as  the  survivor  of  the  grand  old 
coterie. 

He  was  born  on  August  twenty-ninth,  1809,  in  a 
great  gambrel-roofed  house  in  Cambridge,  Massa- 
chusetts —  a  house  haunted  by  four  or  five  genera- 
tions of  gentlemen  and  gentlewomen.  Among  his 
ancestors  was  Anne  Bradstreet,  "  The  Tenth  Muse  "; 
and  as  he  had  very  strong  views  about  the  necessity 

256 


OLIVER   WENDELL    HOLMES 

of  selecting  good  forbears,  it  is  well  that  his  own  were 
so  honourable. 

His  was  a  scholarly  home,  and  the  boys  "  bumped 
about  the  bookshelves  in  the  library  " ;  and  long  years 
after,  Oliver  told  the  world  that  he  liked  books  be- 
cause he  was  "  born  among  them."  The  father,  who 
wrote  "  The  Annals  of  America,"  was,  for  forty 
years,  settled  over  a  Congregational  church  in  Cam- 
bridge, and  finally  deposed  for  refusing  to  accept 
Unitarian  tenets;  and  the  old  house,  too,  was  de- 
posed, for  just  a  stone-slab  marks  to-day  the  site 
where  "  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  was  born." 

He  prepared,  at  Phillips  Academy,  Andover,  for 
entrance  to  Harvard  College,  and  carried  with  him 
a  fondness  for  rhyming.  He  graduated  in  the 
"  Class  of  '29,"  in  which  every  member  turned  out 
famous  for  something.  In  it  were  the  noted  author 
and  Unitarian  clergyman,  James  Freeman  Clarke; 
and  Samuel  J.  Smith,  who,  as  the  writer  of  "  Amer- 
ica," would  be  known  —  so  Holmes  believed  —  long 
after  other  poets  of  the  day  were  in  oblivion.  But 
what  gave  the  class  wider  notoriety,  were  the  forty  or 
more  anniversary  poems,  which  Holmes,  as  laureate, 
dedicated  to  it. 

The  year  after  graduating,  he  was  one  day  shocked 
to  read  that  it  was  proposed  to  break  up  the  frigate 
Constitution,  which  was  universally  known  as  "  Old 
Ironsides,"  because  in  the  War  of  1812  it  had 
won  such  a  splendid  victory  over  the  British  Guer- 

257 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

rierc  —  and,  like  the  Maine  of  later  history,  it 
was  an  object  of  natidnal  pride.  With  hot  indigna- 
tion, Holmes  quickly  wrote  his  "  Old  Ironsides,"  be- 
ginning :  — 

"Ay,  tear  her  tattered  ensign  down! 

Long  has  it  waved  on  high, 
And  many  an  eye  has  danced  to  see 

That  banner  in  the  sky; 
Beneath  it  rang  the  battle  shout, 

And  burst  the  cannon's  roar ;  — 
The  meteor  of  the  ocean  air 

Shall  sweep  the  clouds  no  more." 

He  hurried  with  his  manuscript  to  the  office  of  "  The 
Boston  Advertiser,"  and  it  was  at  once  accepted  and 
copied  all  over  the  land ;  and  it  so  roused  public  feel- 
ing that  the  frigate  was  saved,  and  Holmes's  im- 
promptu outburst  became  a  standard  lyric. 

Holmes  first  took  up  law  but  very  soon  renounced 
it  for  medicine.  This  he  studied  in  Boston ;  then  for 
two  and  a  half  years  most  enthusiastically  in  Europe ; 
and  in  1836  —  a  well-equipped  young  doctor  —  he 
took  his  degree  of  M.D.  He  hung  out  his  shingle 
in  somewhat  frolicsome  mood,  wishing  he  dared  print 
on  it:  "  Small  fevers  gratefully  received";  and  this 
same  merry  humour  and  his  skill  in  rhyming  somehow 
told,  at  the  outset,  against  his  reputation  as  a  physi- 
cian, and  yet  this  cheeriness  made  him  always  a 
welcome  guest  in  the  sick-room. 

258 


OLIVER   WENDELL    HOLMES 

His  first  volume  contains  "  The  Last  Leaf  " — 
which  popular  poem,  perhaps  more  than  any  other, 
manifests  his  rare  mingling  of  mirth  and  pathos.  It 
was  suggested  by  meeting  in  the  street  a  venerable 
relic  of  Revolutionary  days  —  with  cocked  hat,  knee- 
breeches,  buckled  shoes,  and  sturdy  cane.  Poe  loved 
the  poem  and  sent  its  author  a  copy  in  his  own  writ- 
ing; Abraham  Lincoln  often  repeated  it;  and  Holmes 
read  it  on  occasion,  with  a  meaning  which  only 
he  could  impart.  Written  in  his  youth,  the  words 
seem  prophetic  when  we  think  of  him  as  the  last  sur- 
vivor of  the  grand  New  England  group. 

In  1839,  Holmes  became  professor  of  anatomy 
and  physiology  in  Dartmouth  College ;  and  as  teacher 
and  lecturer,  he  proved  much  more  successful  than  as 
practising  physician.  Certain  lessons  that  he  had 
learned  from  experience,  he  earnestly  taught  to  his 
pupils.  He  begged  them,  if  they  wanted  success  in 
any  one  calling,  never  to  let  the  world  know  that  they 
were  interested  in  any  other;  in  other  words,  not  to 
attempt  at  the  same  time  to  make  rhymes  and  pre- 
scriptions. 

The  Miss  Jackson  whom  he  now  married  was  the 
daughter  of  an  Associate-Justice  of  Massachusetts 
and  she  proved  an  ideal  wife.  After  his  marriage, 
he  resigned  his  professorship  and  resumed  practice  in 
Boston.  Then,  in  1847,  he  was  appointed  professor 
of  anatomy  in  the  Harvard  Medical  School,  holding 
this  chair  for  thirty-five  years.  As  an  instructor,  he 

259 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

was  remarkably  successful,  and  given  to  experiments 
of  all  kinds.  His  pupils  asserted  that  he  knew  as 
much  of  the  body  as  the  mind,  and,  by  apt  and  comic 
illustration,  he  made  the  driest  matter  interesting. 
He  did  much  scientific  writing  in  connection  with  his 
lectures;  indeed,  most  of  the  prose  literary  work  be- 
longing to  these  earlier  years  was  on  medical  topics. 

Like  Emerson  and  Lowell,  he  needed  more  money 
than  his  profession  yielded;  so  he,  too,  travelled  about 
as  a  Lyceum  lecturer  —  his  "  lecture-peddling,"  he 
dubbed  it.  Perhaps  the  best  of  these  lectures  were  en 
the  English  poets  —  and  he  frequently  appended  an 
original  poem.  He  had  not  Emerson's  personality 
and  beautiful  tones  —  his  voice  being  not  strong  but 
clear  and  sympathetic.  One  has  described  the  "  plain 
little  dapper  man  " —  his  short  hair  brushed  down  like 
a  boy's  —  his  countenance  glowing  with  fervour  — 
while  with  kindly  and  abundant  wit,  he  moved  his 
audience,  looking  up  at  the  end  of  each  sentence  to 
be  sure  they  caught  the  point!  Who  could  miss  it? 

Yet  not  as  a  lecturer,  but  as  the  author  of  "  The 
Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table  " —  regarded  in  its 
day  one  of  the  wisest  and  wittiest  of  prose  books  — 
will  Dr.  Holmes  be  longest  known.  The  suggestion 
of  his  subject  came  to  him  in  "  his  uncombed  literary 
boyhood,"  when  he  wrote  two  papers  and  sent  them 
to  a  magazine;  and  now  twenty  years  later,  he  chris- 
tens "  The  Atlantic  Monthly,"  and  promises  Lowell 
to  write  for  it,  because  only  on  that  condition  will  it 

260 


OLIVER   WENDELL    HOLMES 

be  brought  into  existence.  And  after  this  casual 
break  of  twenty  years,  he  commences  his  first  essay 
in  these  words:  "  I  was  going  to  say  when  I  was  in- 
terrupted " —  Thus  his  "  Autocrat  "  begins. 

It  is,  in  form,  very  like  the  English  "  Spectator." 
Here  an  autocrat  presides  over  a  group  of  characters 
that  gather,  morning  after  morning,  about  a  board- 
ing-house table.  His  conversation  —  chiefly  in 
monologue  —  on  a  diversity  of  practical  subjects  — 
is  addressed  to  those  about  him ;  among  them,  are  the 
landlady,  an  old  gentleman,  an  ancient  maiden,  a 
divinity  student,  and  a  sweet  schoolmistress  who  sel- 
dom presumes  to  make  a  remark  —  all  of  whom  are 
evidently  created  to  give  a  turn  to  his  theme,  from 
time  to  time.  Occasionally  an  illustrative,  rambling 
rhyme  or  poem  is  introduced. 

Among  these  is  "  The  Chambered  Nautilus  " — 
that  most  graceful  and  artistic  of  Holmes's  creations. 
The  thought  originated  while  examining  a  section  of 
the  spiral  home  of  this  ingenious  builder.  He  noted 
the  enlarging  compartments,  in  which,  as  it  grew,  it 
dwelt  in  turn,  and  thus  he  wrote  this  piece  of  sym- 
bolism :  — 

"  Year  after  year  behold  the  silent  toil 
That  spread  his  lustrous  coil ; 
Still,  as  the  spiral  grew, 
He  left  the  past  year's  dwelling  for  the  next, 
Stole  with  soft  step  its  shining  archway  through, 
Built  up  its  idle  door, 
261 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

Stretched  in  his  last-found  home,  and  knew  the  old  no 
more. 

Build  thee  more  stately  mansions,  O  my  soul, 

As  the  swift  seasons  roll ! 

Leave  thy  low-vaulted  past! 
Let  each  new  temple,  nobler  than  the  last, 
Shut  thee  from  heaven  with  a  dome  more  vast, 

Till  thou  at  length  art  free, 
Leaving  thine  outgrown  shell  by  life's  unresting  sea! " 

And  Dr.  Holmes  was  grateful  for  the  heavenly  mes- 
sage from  the  little  silent  architect,  and  more  than  by 
bronze  or  by  marble,  he  wished  to  be  remembered  by 
his  "  Chambered  Nautilus." 

And  other  poems,  also,  were  woven  into  the  chap- 
ters of  "  The  Autocrat  " —  among  them,  "  Parson 
TurelPs  Legacy  " ;  and  the  essays  grew  until  at  last 
there  was  a  bookful,  and  in  the  final  paragraph  —  to 
maintain  a  slender  thread  of  sentiment  that  moves 
throughout  —  the  Autocrat  carries  off  the  schoolmis- 
tress, that  together  they  may  walk  "  the  long  path- 
way of  peace." 

Years  later,  "  The  Professor  at  the  Breakfast 
Table "  followed,  and  after  another  lapse,  "  The 
Poet  at  the  Breakfast  Table " ;  and  when  Dr. 
Holmes  was  eighty-one,  he  brought  out  "  Over  the 
Teacups";  but  these  monologues  belonging  to  the 
evening  could  not  be  so  exhilarating  as  those  of  the 
bright,  early  morning. 

263 


OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES 

Dr.  Holmes  calls  genius  "  the  ability  to  light  one's 
own  fire  ";  and  this  he  surely  did  in  his  "  Autocrat " 
which  at  once  was  famous,  and  helped  to  give  "  The 
Atlantic  "  a  brave  start.  He  was  always  watching 
the  symptoms  of  the  times;  and  in  these  and  other 
essays  for  current  literature,  he  discussed  topics  of 
every-day,  and  often  from  a  physician's  standpoint. 

The  astonishing  success  of  "  The  Autocrat "  en- 
couraged him  to  write  three  novels:  "  Elsie  Vernier," 
"  The  Guardian  Angel,"  and  "  The  Mortal  Antip- 
athy " —  all  designed  to  show  differing  psychologi- 
cal theories.  Elsie  Venner  may  fascinate  some  with 
her  serpent  charm,  and  the  sunshiny  old  bachelor  in 
;t  The  Guardian  Angel"  is  pleasing  to  meet;  but 
Dr.  Holmes  does  not  tell  a  tale  readily  and  his  novels 
do  not  evince  his  highest  talent  —  but  he  was  most 
particular  about  the  finish  of  these  as  of  his  other 
works. 

His  biographies  of  Motley  and  Emerson  are  full 
of  sympathetic  appreciation.  Motley  was  always 
his  close  friend,  and  he  wrote  out  of  the  very  fulness 
of  his  love.  He  admired  Emerson,  and  in  speaking 
of  him,  narrated  many  characteristic  anecdotes;  but 
he  could  not  quite  unravel  the  philosophy  of  the  mam- 
moth thinker,  as  he  shows  in  the  following  question: 

"  Where  in  the  realm  of  thought,  whose  air  is  song, 

Does  he,  the  Buddha  of  the  West,  belong? 
He  seems  a  winged  Franklin  sweetly  wise, 
Born  to  unlock  the  secrets  of  the  skies." 

263 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

In  Morse's  "  Life  and  Letters  of  Dr.  Holmes," 
we  may  read  many  of  his  vivacious  letters  to  Motley, 
Lowell,  Whittier,  Agassiz,  and  others ;  —  and  more, 
in  Mrs.  Field's  "  Reminiscences."  He  was,  in  a 
sense,  his  own  Boswell,  talking  frankly  of  his  person- 
alities to  his  friends  and  the  world.  He  sometimes 
even  confesses  his  petty  vanities,  for  he  loved  praise 
and  advocated  it,  and  he  speaks  of  himself  as  — 

"  Singing  or  sad  by  fits  and  starts, 
One  actor  in  a  dozen  parts." 

And  we  love  him  the  better  for  the  human  touches; 
but  still  we  wish  that  he  might  have  been  attended  by 
yet  another  Boswell,  who  would  have  preserved  to 
posterity  more  of  his  sparkling  conversations. 

And  we  get,  too,  a  many-sided  view  of  this  hu- 
mourist, scientist,  teacher,  autocrat,  essayist,  biog- 
rapher, and  letter-writer  —  when  we  glance  into  his 
three  volumes  of  poetical  works  which  might  all  have 
been  called  "  Songs  in  Many  Keys  " —  for  they  treat 
of  things  so  varied. 

In  "  War  Time,"  he  was  conservative  but  patri- 
otic, as  in  "  God  Save  the  Flag!  "  and  the  "  Army 
Hymn,"  of  which  we  select  the  fourth  stanza :  — 

"  God  of  all  Nations !     Sovereign  Lord ! 

In  thy  dread  name  we  draw  the  sword, 
We  lift  the  starry  flag  on  high 

That  fills  with  light  our  stormy  sky.'* 
264 


OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES 

To  instance  his  clever  pen,  we  name  the  universal 
favourite  — "  The  Deacon's  Masterpiece  " —  that 
"  wonderful  one-hoss  shay,"  that,  after  running  a 
hundred  years,  went  to  pieces  all  at  once :  — 

"  All  at  once,  and  nothing  first, — 
Just  as  bubbles  do  when  they  burst." 

And  as  "  the  poet  of  occasion,"  Holmes  is  without 
a  peer.  Mrs.  Field  calls  him :  "  King  of  the  Dinner- 
Table";  Mr.  Stedman:  "  Our  most  typical  Univer- 
sity Poet";  another,  "  The  Harvard  Mirth- 
Maker  ";  and  yet  one  more:  "  Sweet  Minstrel  of  the 
Joyous  Present"  Boston,  his  "  Three-Hilled  City," 
was  always  inviting  him  to  celebrate  something,  and 
he  was  quickly  ready  for  feast  or  commemoration. 

"  I'm  a  florist  in  verse,  and  what  would  people  say, 
If  I  came  to  a  banquet  without  my  bouquet?  " 

once  exclaimed  this  unrivalled  songster.  Such 
poetic  effusions  do  not  always  live  —  but  they  re- 
ceive enough  instant  applause  as  compensation. 

And  this  master  of  the  gentle  craft  had  many  gifted 
friends.  He  was  a  lover  of  men  —  for  as  one  has 
said :  "  He  always  made  you  think  you  were  the 
best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  he  the  next  best." 

He  was  a  brilliant  member  of  the  "  Saturday 
Club,"  that  for  years  brought  together  in  Boston  the 
brightest  scholars  of  the  land,  and  often  at  its 

a65 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

monthly  dinners  entertained  distinguished  guests 
from  abroad.  Here  one  found  Emerson,  Longfel- 
low, Lowell,  Hawthorne  and  Whittier;  and  often 
Dr.  Holmes,  the  prince  of  conversationalists,  presided 
with  courtesy  and  unexampled  witticism,  and  he  was 
one  of  those,  who,  when  he  was  in  the  room,  the 
whole  room  was  conscious  of  his  presence — "Our 
Yankee  Tsar  " —  as  Aldrich  styled  him. 

Dr.  Holmes  had  warm  admiration  for  Professor 
Agassiz  and  nicknamed  him  "  Liebig's  Extract  of  the 
Wisdom  of  Ages."  Of  James  Freeman  Clarke  he 
writes :  — 

"  With  sacred  zeal  to  save,  to  lead, — 
Long  live  our  dear  St.  James." 

In  greeting  his  faithful  friend  Lowell,  on  his  re- 
turn from  abroad,  he  wonders :  — 

"  By  what  enchantments,  what  alluring  arts, 
Our  truthful  James  led  captive  British  hearts." 

Whittier  calls  Holmes  "  our  rarest  optimist " — 
and  on  his  eightieth  birthday,  inscribes  to  him  a  son- 
net containing  the  two  graceful  lines :  — 

"  Long  be  it  ere  the  table  shall  be  set 
For  the  last  breakfast  of  the  Autocrat." — 

and  Holmes,  not  to  be  outdone  by  Whittier,  wrote 
of  the  latter  :- 

266 


OLIVER  WENDELL   HOLMES 

"  Let  him  live  to  a  hundred ;  we  want  him  on  earth, 

He  never  will  die  if  he  lingers  below 

Till  we've  paid  him  in  love  half  the  balance  we  owe ! " 

So  the  members  of  this  New  England  group  be^ 
lieved  firmly  in  one  another,  paid  loving  tribute  to 
one  another,  and  held  together  till  death.  Very 
touching  are  the  memorial  lines  from  Holmes  to 
Lowell :  — 

"  Thou  shouldst  have  sung  the  swan-song  for  the  choir  " — 

In  reference  to  the  warm  friendships  embodied  in 
his  poems,  we  quote  this  story  from  Mrs.  Field's 
"  Reminiscences  " :  — 

"  One  evening  the  Doctor  came  in  after  the  Phi  Beta 
Kappa  dinner  at  Cambridge,  and  said :  '  I  can't  stop  — 
I  just  came  to  read  you  some  verses  I  gave  at  the  dinner  to- 
day. I  wouldn't  have  brought  them,  but  Hoar  says  they  are 
the  best  I  have  ever  done.'  Then  in  the  fading  sunset  light 
reflected  from  the  river,  he  read  with  great  tenderness  — 
1  Bill  and  Joe.'  " 

Mrs.  Field  adds :  "  These  are  pleasant  on  the 
printed  page,  but  divested  of  the  affection  with  which 
he  read  them."  Later  in  life,  Dr.  Holmes  said  in 
reference  to  similar  poems :  "  The  writing  of  such 
verses  has  been  a  passionate  joy." 

And  now  to  return  to  the  facts  of  Dr.  Holmes's 
267 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

life.  In  the  Civil  War,  his  son,  Captain  Holmes, 
was  wounded  at  the  battle  at  Ball's  Bluff,  and  after 
seeking  him,  he  wrote :  "  My  Hunt  after  the  Cap- 
tain." The  son  lived  "  to  fight  another  day "  at 
Bull  Run,  and  also  to  become  the  honoured  Chief- 
Justice  of  Massachusetts. 

On  Dr.  Holmes's  seventieth  birthday,  the  publish- 
ers of  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly "  tendered  him  a 
great  public  breakfast  to  which  were  summoned  many 
representative  men.  For  this  he  wrote,  "  The  Iron 
Gate,"  a  cheerful  picture  of  old  age.  Truly,  as  Bur- 
roughs said  of  him:  "  May  is  in  his  heart,  and  early 
autumn  in  his  brain." 

On  resigning  his  professorship  at  Harvard,  in 
1882,  the  students  presented  him  with  a  loving-cup 
inscribed  with  his  own  lines :  — 

"  Love   Bless   Thee ,  Joy   Crown   Thee,    God    Speed    Thy 
Career." 

Dr.  Holmes  had  always  disliked  change  of  any 
kind,  and  except  for  his  lectures,  he  had  travelled 
very  little,  for  "  Better  a  hash  at  home  than  a  roast 
with  strangers,"  had  been  his  motto.  So  his  friends 
were  surprised  when,  in  1886,  fifty  years  after  his 
first  trip,  Dr.  Holmes  took  his  daughter  and  went 
abroad.  As  "  The  Autocrat,"  he  was  lionised 
everywhere,  and  his  biographer  says  that  it  was  only 
by  extreme  care  that  he  extricated  himself  alive  from 
the  hospitalities  of  his  British  friends.  Edinburgh, 

268 


OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES 

Cambridge,  and  Oxford  conferred  degrees  upon  him ; 
and  as  he  appeared  on  the  platform  at  Oxford,  the 
students  shrieked:  "  Did  he  come  in  the  One-Hoss 
Shay? "  Upon  his  return  to  America  he  wrote, 
"  One  Hundred  Days  in  Europe." 

The  Autocrat  spent  his  summers  at  Beverly  Farms ; 
and  here,  on  his  vine-covered  verandah,  overlooking 
the  ocean,  he  passed  "  many  days  of  glowing  hours." 
His  winter  home  was  in  Boston,  which  was  to  him  the 
veritable  "  Hub  of  the  Universe  " —  while  to  his  ad- 
mirers, his  library  was  "  the  hub  "  of  Boston.  His 
latest  residence  was  on  Beacon  Street,  near  the  homes 
of  Mr.  Howells  and  other  old-time  friends.  How 
many  to-day  recall  his  cordial  welcome  as  they  visited 
him  in  his  luxurious  library,  with  the  changing  view 
upon  Back  Bay.  Upon  the  wall  hung  a  treasured 
Copley,  the  portrait  of  his  ancestor,  "  Dorothy  Q." 
In  his  dainty  poem  addressed  to  her,  he  acquaints  us 
with  her  thus :  — 

"  Grandmother's  mother :  her  age,  I  gues*, 
Thirteen  summers,  or  something  less; 
Girlish  bust,  but  womanly  air; 
Smooth,  square  forehead  with  uprolled  hair; 
Lips  that  lover  has  never  kissed; 
Taper  fingers  and  slender  wrist; 
Hanging  sleeves  of  stiff  brocade; 
So  they  painted  the  little  maid. 

On  her  hand  a  parrot  green 

Sits  unmoving  and  broods  ierene." 

269 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

And  in  his  library,  in  the  sunset  of  life,  he  enjoyed 
looking  out  of  the  big  bay-window,  over  the  ex- 
panse of  water,  watching  the  tide  and  craft  and  sea- 
gulls; and  just  beyond,  Cambridge  where  he  was 
born,  Harvard  College  with  which  he  had  been  so 
long  allied,  and  Mt.  Auburn  Cemetery  where  his  re- 
mains would  rest.  His  final  volume  of  poems,  pub- 
lished in  1888,  was  entitled  "Before  the  Curfew." 
Its  text  seemingly  is :  "  The  curfew  tells  me  —  cover 
up  the  fire." 

All  the  years  he  had  been  devoted  to  "  The  Boys 
of  '29,"  even  when  "  The  poor  old  raft  was  going 
to  pieces  and  it  was  hard  to  get  any  together  " ; —  and 
finally,  in  1889,  ne  wrote  his  parting  tribute.  So  run 
the  first  three  stanzas :  — 

"  The  Play  is  over.    While  the  light 
Yet  lingers  in  the  darkening  hall, 
I  come  to  say  a  last  Good-night 
Before  the  final  Exeunt  all. 

We  gathered  once,  a  joyous  throng; 

The  jovial  toasts  went  gayly  round  ; 
With  jest,  and  laugh,  and  shout,  and  song, 

We  made  the  floors  and  walls  resound. 

We  come  with  feeble  steps  and  slow, 

A  little  band  of  four  or  five, 
Left  from  the  wrecks  of  long  ago, 

Still  pleased  to  find  ourselves  alive. 


270 


OLIVER   WENDELL   HOLMES 

So  ends  '  The  Boys,' —  a  lifelong  play 
We,  too,  must  hear  the  Prompter's  call 

To  fairer  scenes  and  brighter  day: 
Farewell!     I  let  the  curtain  fall." 

It  is  pathetic  to  note  that,  in  the  next  year,  at  the 
only  subsequent  meeting  of  the  class,  but  three  were 
present,  and  there  was  no  poem. 

After  the  death  of  his  wife,  the  genial  "  Auto- 
crat "  had  been  guarded  very  carefully  by  his  son  and 
daughter-in-law.  The  end  came  quietly  on  August 
seventh,  1894.  His  funeral  took  place  from  King's 
Chapel,  Cambridge,  where  he  had  worshipped  for 
many  years,  and  he  sleeps  in  Mt.  Auburn,  not  far 
from  Longfellow  and  Lowell  —  and  with  his  death, 
the  famous  epoch  closes.  For  many  friends  he  had 
written  memorials ; —  and  among  those  prepared  for 
himself  was  the  following  from  London  "  Punch  " :  — 

"  *  The  Last  Leaf,'  can  it  be  true 
We  have  turned  it,  and  on  you, 
Friend  of  all? 

Of  sweet  singers  the  most  sane, 
Of  keen  wits  the  most  humane. 

With  a  manly  breadth  of  soul, 
And  a  fancy  quaint  and  droll, 
Ripe  and  mellow. 

Years  your  spirit  could  not  tame, 
And  they  will  not  dim  your  fame; 
271 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

England  joys 

In  your  songs,  all  strength  and  ease, 
A.nd  the  dreams  you  made  to  please 
Grey-haired  boys." 

BILL  AND  JOE. 

"  Come,  dear  old  comrade,  you  and  I 
Will  steal  an  hour  from  days  gone  by, 
The  shining  days  when  life  was  new, 
And  all  was  bright  with  morning  dew, 
The  lusty  days  of  long  ago, 
When  you  were  Bill  and  I  was  Joe. 

Your  name  may  flaunt  a  titled  trail 
Proud  as  a  cockerel's  rainbow  tail, 
And  mine  as  brief  appendix  wear 
As  Tarn  O'Shanter's  luckless  mare; 
To-day,  old  friend,  remember  still 
That  I  am  Joe  and  you  are  Bill. 

You've  won  the  great  world's  envied  prize, 

And  grand  you  look  in  people's  eyes, 

With  HON.  and  LL.D. 

In  big  brave  letters,  fair  to  see, — 

Your  fist,  old  fellow!  off  they  go!  — 

How  are  you,  Bill?    How  are  you,  Joe? 

You've  worn  the  judge's  ermined  robe ; 
You've  taught  your  name  to  half  the  globe; 
You've  sung  mankind  a  deathless  strain ; 
You've  made  the  dead  past  live  again : 
The  world  may  call  you  what  it  will, 
But  you  and  I  are  Joe  and  Bill. 
272 


OLIVER  WENDELL  HOLMES 

The  chaffing  young  folks  stare  and  say 

'  See  those  old  buffers,  bent  and  grey, — 

They  talk  like  fellows  in  their  teens ! 

Mad,  poor  old  boys!     That's  what  it  means, '- 

And  shake  their  heads;  they  little  know 

The  throbbing  hearts  of  Bill  and  Joe !  — 

How  Bill  forgets  his  hour  of  pride, 
While  Joe  sits  smiling  at  his  side; 
How  Joe,  in  spite  of  time's  disguise, 
Finds  the  old  schoolmate  in  his  eyes, — 
Those  calm,  stern  eyes  that  melt  and  fill 
As  Joe  looks  fondly  up  at  Bill. 

Ah,  pensive  scholar,  what  is  fame? 

A  fitful  tongue  of  leaping  flame; 

A  giddy  whirlwind's  fickle  gust, 

That  lifts  a  pinch  of  mortal  dust  ; 

A  few  swift  years,  and  who  can  show 

Which  dust  was  Bill  and  which  was  Joe? 

The  weary  idol  takes  his  stand, 
Holds  out  his  bruised  and  aching  hand, 
While  gaping  thousands  come  and  go, — 
How  vain  it  seems,  this  empty  show! 
Till  all  at  once  his  pulses  thrill; — 
'Tis  poor  old  Joe's  '  God  bless  you,  Bill ! ' 

And  shall  we  breathe  in  happier  spheres 
The  names  that  pleased  our  mortal  ears, 
In  some  sweet  lull  of  harp  and  song 
For  earth-born  spirits  none  too  long, 
Just  whispering  of  the  world  below 
Where  this  was  Bill  and  that  was  Joe  ? 
373 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

No  matter;  while  our  home  is  here 
No  sounding  name  is  half  so  dear; 
When  fades  at  length  our  lingering  day, 
Who  cares  what  pompous  tombstones  say  ? 
Read  on  the  hearts  that  love  us  still, 
Hie  jacet  Joe.    Hie  jacet  Bill." 

— Holmes. 


374 


XXVII 

EDGAR   ALLAN   POE    (1809-1849) 

EDGAR  ALLAN  POE,  the  most  famous  Southern 
author,  and  one  of  the  renowned  literary  artists  of 
the  world,  stands  apart  —  a  solitary,  statuesque  figure 
in  American  literature.  Born  in  the  same  year  with 
Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  the  character  of  the  morose 
and  sensitive  genius  was  in  striking  contrast  to  that 
of  the  gentle,  lovable  humourist. 

His  grandfather,  a  Revolutionary  patriot,  founded 
the  family  in  Maryland;  and  Poe's  dashing  young 
father,  while  studying  law  in  Baltimore  in  1805, 
alienated  himself  from  his  parents,  by  marrying  a 
pretty  English  actress,  and  adopting  his  wife's  pro- 
fession; and  it  was  on  January  nineteenth,  1809, 
while  these  strolling  players  were  fulfilling  an  engage- 
ment in  Boston,  that  Edgar  was  born;  a  little  later, 
both  parents  died  in  the  same  month,  leaving  three 
small  children  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the  world. 
It  seems  a  remarkable  fact  that  all  three  were 
adopted  by  wealthy  people. 

Mr.  Allan,  a  tobacco  merchant  of  Richmond,  Vir- 
ginia, was  attracted  by  the  precocious  little  Edgar, 
and  from  a  home  of  poverty,  he  was  transferred  to 
one  of  real  Southern  luxury.  Mrs.  Allan  petted  and 

275 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

caressed  him,  while  his  foster-father  indulged  him  in 
every  wish.  At  six  years  old,  the  gifted  child,  with 
his  bright  eyes  and  dark  curls  and  dressed  like  a 
prince,  would  stand  upon  a  table,  and,  in  sweetest 
tone,  declaim  to  guests,  or  pledge  them  "  right 
roguishly  "  in  a  glass  of  wine." 

When  he  was  seven,  he  was  taken  abroad  and 
placed  in  an  English  school,  and  later  in  Richmond 
was  carefully  prepared  to  enter  college.  With 
musical  ear  and  wonderful  memory,  he  learned  to 
recite  with  surprising  effect  some  of  the  finest  pas- 
sages from  the  English  poets.  Literature  and  his- 
tory, French  and  Latin,  always  charmed  him.  He 
was  excellent  in  debate,  led  in  athletics,  and  made 
a  remarkable  swimming  record,  and  the  boys  culti- 
vated him  because  he  always  had  plenty  of  pocket- 
money. 

The  University  of  Virginia  had  been  recently  es- 
tablished by  the  patriotic  efforts  of  Thomas  Jefferson, 
and  was  numbering  as  its  students  distinguished 
young  men  from  all  parts  of  the  Southland ;  and  here, 
at  seventeen  years  of  age,  Poe  was  admitted  —  ac- 
complished, capricious,  imperious,  and  handsome  — 
and  living  in  the  confidence  that  he  was  to  inherit  a 
fortune.  He  won  creditable  honours  as  a  scholar; 
he  covered  his  walls  with  his  sketches ;  wrote  rhyming 
squibs  to  entertain  his  class;  and  presently  gave  way 
to  temptation  in  drinking  and  gambling,  and  after  he 
had  lost  hundreds  of  dollars,  Mr.  Allan  removed  him 

276 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

from  the  University  and  placed  him  in  his  counting- 
house. 

The  gay  youth  with  fascinating  eyes,  winning 
smile,  pleasing  voice,  and  aristocratic  manners,  en-, 
joyed  the  polished  society  of  Richmond.  He  cared 
not  for  men,  but  began  now  to  form  those  ideal  loves 
for  women  that  dominated  his  life.  It  mattered  not 
what  their  age;  the  mother  of  one  of  his  friends  was 
probably  the  inspiration  of  his  poem  "  Lenore." 

For  a  time  all  went  well;  soon,  however,  he  fell 
again  into  temptation;  gambling-debts  increased,  and 
Mr.  Allan  refused  to  pay  'them,  reprimanding  him 
severely  —  and  at  last  the  high-spirited  youth  who 
would  brook  no  restraint  broke  loose  from  his  envi- 
ronment. Mr.  Allan  had  married  again  and  would 
have  nothing  to  do  with  his  wayward  protege,  and 
when  he  died  a  few  years  later  did  not  even  mention 
him  in  his  will. 

Poe  probably  drifted  away  to  the  home  of  his 
aunt,  Mrs.  Clemm,  in  Baltimore.  He  also  entered 
the  army  under  an  assumed  name,  for  like  his  idol, 
Lord  Byron,  he  determined  to  assist  in  some  struggle 
for  freedom.  He  was  summoned  back  to  Richmond 
by  Mrs.  Allan's  illness,  and  she  was  dead  when  he 
arrived,  but  a  temporary  reconciliation  took  place 
with  his  foster-father. 

It  was  now  time  to  decide  upon  a  profession  and 
Edgar  resolved  to  enter  the  army,  and  Mr.  Allan 
obtained  for  him  admission  to  West  Point.  Again, 

277 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

for  a  little  all  went  well;  then  he  began  to  show  con- 
tempt for  military  duties  —  any  routine  annoyed  him. 
He  wrote  Mr.  Allan,  begging  him  to  recall  him,  and 
Mr.  Allan  refusing,  he  arranged  himself  to  be  ex- 
pelled by  shirking  parole  and  absenting  himself  from 
roll-call.  He  was,  as  one  has  said,  "  perhaps  the 
most  gifted,  but  least  creditable  cadet  that  ever 
entered  that  celebrated  school-of-arms." 

Before  leaving,  he  arranged  with  the  cadets  to 
subscribe  to  a  volume  of  his  poems  which  he  promised 
to  dedicate  to  them,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  free,  deter- 
mined to  support  himself  by  writing,  for  authorship 
was  the  only  thing  in  his  life  that  he  ever  treated  seri- 
ously. Very  soon,  "  Tamerlane  and  Other  Poems  " 
was  published,  dedicated  "  To  the  U.  S.  Corps  of 
Cadets,"  which  the  cadets,  by  the  way,  thought  "  rub- 
bish," because  they  did  not  contain  the  promised 
squibs  —  and  apart  from  West  Point,  the  book  made 
no  impression  in  the  world. 

From  1832-1849,  we  face  the  struggling  years  of 
Poe's  life,  in  which  he  made  his  wonderful  literary 
record.  His  aunt,  Mrs.  Clemm,  the  one  friend  al- 
ways faithful  to  him,  was  too  poor  to  support  him, 
and  for  a  long  time  after  leaving  West  Point,  he  suf- 
fered for  both  food  and  clothing.  One  day  he 
learned  that  "  The  Saturday  Visitor  "  of  Baltimore 
had  offered  a  hundred  dollar  prize  for  the  best  story. 
He  wrote  "  A  MS.  Found  in  a  Bottle,"  and  sent 
it  in,  and  was  the  fortunate  winner.  John  Pendle- 

278 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

ton  Kennedy,  the  statesman-author  and  one  of  the 
judges,  was  interested  in  this  book,  so  "  highly  imagi- 
native and  a  little  given  to  the  terrific,"  and  sought 
out  its  young  author,  whom  he  found  living  in  an 
attic  in  poverty ;  he  offered  him  full  access  to  the  com- 
forts of  his  home,  and  a  horse  to  ride  when  he  needed 
exercise.  Best  of  all,  he  became  Poe's  literary  spon- 
sor, securing  him  a  position  on  the  editorial  staff  of 
"  The  Southern  Literary  Messenger  "  of  Richmond, 
with  an  annual  salary  of  five  hundred  and  twenty 
dollars.  And  now  with  an  assured  living,  Poe  mar- 
ried his  "  starry-eyed  "  little  cousin,  Virginia  Clemm, 
who  had  always  fascinated  him  and  who  was  now 
just  fourteen,  and  his  devotion  to  his  child-wife  is 
one  of  the  noblest  things  in  his  character.  And  suc- 
cess came  to  him;  he  was  asked  for  all  the  short 
stories  he  could  write;  and  as  they  appeared,  they 
won  many  readers  by  their  striking  vigour  and 
novelty  and  their  weird,  imaginative  power. 

Poe  was  an  artist  in  rhetorical  form,  and  in  his  edi- 
torial work  proved  a  keen  critic  of  current  literature. 
He  was  really  the  first  to  emphasise  this  form  of  writ- 
ing. Book  after  book  was  sent  him  for  review,  and 
he  naturally  exposed  many  pretentious  humbugs,  who 
claimed  to  be  men  of  letters.  But  he  was  too  much 
of  a  free  lance,  allowing  personal  feelings  to  influence 
his  mood,  and  so  he  made  enemies.  He  took  savage 
delight  in  slashing  criticisms  of  his  famous  contem- 
poraries; for  one,  he  attacked  Longfellow,  while 

279 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

Longfellow  read  and  admired  Poe.  As  for  Gris- 
wold,  the  compiler  of  "  Poets  and  Poetry  of  Amer- 
ica," he  lashed  his  work  so  severely  that  Gris- 
wold  revenged  himself;  for  when,  after  Poe's  death, 
he  compiled  his  works,  he  appended  to  them  such  a 
distorted,  malicious  biography,  that  although  many 
of  his  statements  have  been  contradicted  by  later  re- 
viewers, it  is  difficult  even  yet  to  be  sure  of  the  true 
facts  about  Poe. 

But  whatever  mistakes  Poe  made,  he  worked  with 
rapidity  on  tales,  critiques,  and  poems;  and  the  maga- 
zine grew  in  importance,  lengthening  its  list  of  sub- 
scribers. He  had  a  happy  home  with  loving  wife 
and  mother-in-law,  and  was  much  honoured  in  Rich- 
mond society,  and  the  world  enjoyed  and  compli- 
mented his  works. 

Suddenly  he  let  fortune  slip  again;  perhaps  his 
petty,  quarrelsome  temper  was  the  cause  —  perhaps 
too  much  conviviality  —  but  in  1837,  we  find  him 
homeless  and  struggling  for  means  of  subsistence. 
He  removed  to  Philadelphia,  where  he  sometimes 
worked  as  a  sort  of  hack-writer,  again  as  editor,  and 
here,  in  a  luxurious  Southern  home  he  produced  his 
most  original  work,  "  Tales  of  the  Grotesque  and 
Arabesque."  Poe  always  made  it  easy  to  break  his 
engagements,  and  in  1844,  he  left  Philadelphia  for 
New  York,  where  he  remained  for  the  last  five  years 
of  his  short  life.  Here,  too,  for  his  brilliant  reputa- 
tion, he  was  received  into  the  select  literary  coterie. 

280 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

With  artists  and  men  of  letters  he  was  a  frequent 
guest,  at  the  gatherings  at  the  home  of  Miss  Anna  C. 
Lynch,  in  Waverley  Place,  and  sometimes  he  brought 
his  wife.  N.  P.  Willis,  the  sentimental  poet  and 
graceful  prose-writer,  befriended  him  and  finally  as- 
sociated him  with  himself  on  "  The  Evening  Mir- 
ror " ;  he  was,  also,  at  one  time  editor  of  "  The 
Broadway  Journal,"  and  occasionally,  took  the  lec- 
ture platform. 

Yet  we  may  not  linger  over  his  successes,  for  an- 
other conflict  is  just  before  him  —  for  now  his  health 
was  shattered  by  bad  habits  and  overwork,  and  his 
wife  was  dying  of  consumption.  Feeling  the  need 
of  country  air,  they  removed  in  1847,  to  a  tmY  cot' 
tage  of  four  rooms,  in  Fordham.  It  still  stands 
there,  opposite  Poe  Park,  and  on  its  exterior  is  a 
big,  black  raven,  and  a  tablet  marked,  "  Here  Poe 
lived." 

Mrs.  Clemm  was  the  presiding  genius,  and  never 
was  mother-in-law  rewarded  by  sweeter  tribute  than 
that  which  Poe  dedicated  to  her  as  "  Mother."  She 
deserved  it  for  she  gave  her  life  to  her  two  children: 
marketing,  cooking,  searching  the  waste-basket  for 
manuscripts  which  she  tried  to  sell,  buying  clothes 
and  gloves  and  cravats  for  her  "  Eddie  "  as  she  al- 
ways called  Poe;  but  the  family  grew  poorer  and 
poorer,  and  sometimes  when  there  was  no  money, 
Poe,  after  seeking  for  work,  would  walk  all  the  way 
home  from  New  York,  proudly,  too,  with  head  erect. 

281 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  watched  by  the  bedside  of  his  child-wife  as  she 
wasted  away,  and  in  the  bleak  winter,  in  their  desti- 
tution, he  tried  to  keep  her  warm,  covering  her  with 
his  great  coat  and  the  family  cat. 

Bunner  has  perpetuated  the  dreary  Fordham  home 
in  a  poem  from  which  we  quote :  — 

"  Here  lived  the  soul  enchanted 

By  melody  of  song; 
Here  dwelt  the  spirit  haunted 
By  a  demoniac  throng; 

Here  sang  the  lips  elated ; 
Here  grief  and  death  were  sated; 
Here  loved  and  here  unmated 
Was  he,  so  frail,  so  strong." 

/  After  the  death  of  his  wife,  Poe  more  than  ever 
yielded  to  despair  and  opiates.  Vain  and  passionate, 
he  believed  in  himself,  and  felt  himself  the  victim  of 
circumstances  rather  than  wrong-doing.  He  had 
like  a  spoiled  child,  always  begging  for  more;  and 
drifted  from  one  friend  and  one  purpose  to  another 
yet  he  once  said:  "  My  life  has  been  whim  —  impulse 
—  passion  —  a  longing  for  solitude  —  a  scorn  of  all 
things  present,  in  an  earnest  desire  for  the  future." 

His  idolised  Virginia  was  the  inspiration  of  his 
"Annabel  Lee";  and  of  "  Eulalie "—  the  only 
poem  that  he  wrote  in  1 847  —  its  wandering  lines 
beginning:  — 

282 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

"  I  dwelt  alone 

In  a  world  of  moan, 
And  my  soul  was  a  stagnant  tide, 
Till  the  fair  and  gentle  Eulalie  became 
My  blushing  bride — " 

We  may  touch  but  lightly  on  the  facts  of  Poe's 
own  death,  which  occurred  on  October  seventh,  1849. 
Perhaps  he  was  preparing  to  marry  again  and  per- 
haps he  had  just  been  refused.  In  passing  through 
Baltimore,  he  was  found  unconscious  in  the  street,  and 
carried  to  the  Marine  Hospital  where  he  died.  His 
funeral  was  attended  by  only  eight  persons.  One 
was  a  veiled  old  woman  who  was  often  seen  later, 
mourning  at  his  grave. 

This  grave  was  unmarked  for  twenty-five  years, 
and  then  when  the  facts  of  Poe's  life  were  more  and 
more  lost  in  recognition  of  his  supernatural  tales  and 
emotional  poems,  the  teachers  of  the  Baltimore 
schools  had  a  memorial  slab  placed  over  it,  and  on 
November  seventeenth,  1875,  in  the  presence  of  a 
large  assembly  —  in  which  were  Walt  Whitman  and 
other  poets  —  it  was  consecrated  to  Poe  —  "  so  frail, 
so  strong." 

Our  special  concern,  however,  is  with  Poe's  works, 
which  form  striking  contrast  to  his  vacillating  career. 
Hawthorne  and  Poe  stand  together  as  our  first  bril- 
liant tellers  of  the  short  story.  Hawthorne  dwelt  on 
conscience  and  moral  beauty  —  Poe  on  weird,  pas- 

283 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

sionate  conceits.  In  his  tales  there  is  usually  a 
grand,  central  figure,  which,  by  the  way,  often  re- 
sembles his  own  personality.  The  people  that  move 
in  some  of  the  plots  are  often  in  most  unearthly  guise 
—  so  that  nothing  stands  out  distinctly.  Again  there 
is  a  secret  combining  of  the  strange  and  terrible, 
which  is  skilfully  unravelled.  Some  call  Poe  our 
finest  writer  of  detective  stories  —  surely  he  was 
our  earliest. 

Not  what  he  thought  with  his  natural  mind,  but 
gloomy  forms  that  came  to  him  when  under  the  in- 
fluence of  opium,  may  have  inspired  him  as  they  did 
Coleridge.  There  are  so  many  masterpieces  that 
we  may  not  mention  all.  Among  those  most  read 
are  "  Ligeia,"  "  William  Wilson,"  "  The  Pit  and 
the  Pendulum,"  and  "Hans  Pfaall,"  whose  hero 
journeys  with  his  cat,  in  a  balloon,  to  the  moon. 
"  Murders  in  the  Rue  Morgue,"  translated  into 
French,  made  France  rate  Poe  most  highly. 

"  The  Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher  "  is  typical  of 
his  style.  Here  air  and  landscape  are  in  harmony 
with  the  gloom  and  horror  of  the  scene :  "  the  wild 
light,  the  blood-red  moon,  the  fierce  breath  of  the 
whirlwind,  the  mighty  walls  rushing  asunder,  the 
long,  tumultuous  shouting  like  the  voice  of  a  thousand 
waters  —  the  deep  and  dark  tarn  closing  suddenly 
and  silently  over  the  fragments  of  the  l  House  of 
Usher  '  " —  with  such  productions,  Poe,  conjuror-like, 
enchanted  his  readers. 

284 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

Let  us  turn  to  his  unique  poetry.  Incapable  of 
sustained  effort  in  verse  as  well  as  in  prose,  he  did 
not  believe  in  a  long  poem.  The  few  brief  ones, 
known  to  everybody,  are  unlike  those  of  any  other 
poet  of  his  time.  His  minstrel  harp  was  his  pride. 
To  him  poetry  was  "  the  rhythmical  creation  of 
beauty."  He  caught  his  colouring  from  the  South, 
from  Europe,  and  the  Orient,  and  he  embodies  in  his 
verses  ethereal  and  exquisite  strains.  Refrain  and 
repetend  and  onomatopoeia  are  among  his  rare 
powers  —  the  latter  best  shown  in  "  The  Bells." 

While  Holmes  and  others  of  his  group  paid  tribute 
to  men,  Poe  perfectly  deified  women.  Among  those 
that  most  influenced  him  were  Mrs.  Browning, 
through  her  poems ;  Mrs.  Whitman,  the  poetess,  and 
the  literary  Mrs.  Osgood;  and  to  the  last  two  he 
ever  turned  for  sympathy. 

His  beautiful  but  incomprehensible  "  Israfel  "  was 
his  favourite  among  his  works.  This  was  suggested 
by  a  line  from  the  Koran,  describing  "  the  angel 
Israfel,  whose  heart-strings  are  a  lute,  and  who  has 
the  sweetest  voice  of  all  God's  creatures."  It  seems 
as  if  in  the  last  stanza,  more  than  any  other,  Poe 
soared  to  his  highest  expression :  — 

"  If  I  could  dwell 
•Where  Israfel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 

He  might  not  sing  so  wildly  well 

285 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

A  mortal  melody, 

While  a  bolder  note  than  this  might  swell 
From  my  lyre  within  the  sky." 

And  there  is  "  The  Raven,"  popular  at  home  and 
abroad.  The  self-possessed  fowl,  "  Once  upon  a 
midnight  dreary,"  started  him  by  its  "  tapping,  gently 
tapping,"  entered  his  chamber,  perched  upon  a  bust 
of  Pallas,  and  in  reply  to  all  his  questioning,  uttered 
the  solemn  dirge  "  Never  —  Nevermore !  " 

When  Poe  had  completed  the  poem,  he  read  it  to 
a  friend,  and  then  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  it, 
and  the  answer  was:  "  I  think  it  uncommonly  fine." 
"  Fine!  "  cried  Poe,  "  is  that  all  you  can  say  of  it? 
It  is  the  greatest  poem  ever  written,  sir!  "  Poe  liked 
to  recite  it,  and  in  his  melodious  voice,  he  gave  it  in- 
describable charm,  and  one  could  never  forget  his 
plaintive  "  Nevermore!  " 

"  The  Raven  "  was  written,  in  1845,  *n  New  York, 
and  he  received  for  it  ten  dollars,  but  —  more  than 
any  other  poem  —  it  brought  him  immediate  fame. 
It  was  copied  far  and  wide  and  much  used  as  a  school 
recitation.  The  poets  read  and  pondered  it,  and 
Lowell,  in  his  "  Fable  for  Critics  "  says :  — 

"  There  comes  Poe  with  his  Raven,  like  Barnaby  Rudge, 
Three-fifths  of  him  genius,  and  two-fifths  sheer  fudge." 

"  The  Raven  " —  though  somewhat  hard  to  interpret 
—  will  always  have  an  abiding  place  in  our  literature. 

286 


EDGAR   ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 

Abroad  it  was  considered  Poe's  supreme  effort;  in- 
deed, his  tales  and  poems  are  more  honoured  in 
Europe  than  those  of  many  of  our  authors.  Tenny- 
son ranked  him  "  the  greatest  American  genius  " ; 
and  Victor  Hugo,  "  The  Prince  of  American  Litera- 
ture." And  to-day  everywhere  one  thinks  more  of  his 
writings  and  less  of  his  sad  life. 

On  account  of  his  poetic  and  Platonic  affection  for 
women,  the  fair  sex  has  done  much  to  increase  his 
fame.  A  Woman's  Club,  in  Baltimore,  is  about  to 
erect  a  heroic  statue  to  Poe.  It  is  to  be  a  seated 
figure,  representing  him  in  an  inspired  attitude,  and 
to  be  carved  by  the  noted  sculptor,  Ezekiel. 

Owing  to  controversy,  regarding  his  life  and  writ- 
ings, it  was  not  until  1910  that  the  New  York  "  Hall 
of  Fame  "  opened  its  doors  to  Poe.  In  the  Metro- 
politan Museum,  there  is  a  memorial  tablet,  in- 
scribed :  — 

"  He  was  great  in  his  genius,  unhappy  in  his  life,  wretched 
in  death,  and  in  his  fame  he  is  immortal." 

What  shall  be  our  verdict? 

ANNABEL  LEE. 

It  was  many  and  many  a  year  ago 

In  a  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
That  a  maiden  there  lived  whom  you  may  know 

By  the  name  of  Annabel  Lee; 
And  this  maiden  she  lived  with  no  other  thougnt 

Than  to  love  and  be  loved  by  me. 

287 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

I  was  a  child  and  she  was  a  child, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
But  we  loved  with  a  love  that  was  more  than  love, 

I  and  my  Annabel  Lee; 
With  a  love  that  the  winged  seraphs  of  heaven 

Coveted  her  and  me. 

And  this  was  the  reason  that,  long  ago, 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea, 
A  wind  blew  out  of  a  cloud,  chilling 

My  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
So  that  her  highborn  kinsmen  came 

And  bore  her  away  from  me, 
To  shut  her  up  in  a  sepulchre 

In  this  kingdom  by  the  sea. 


But  our  love  it  was  stronger  by  far  than  the  love 

Of  those  who  were  older  than  we, 

Of  many  far  wiser  than  we; 
And  neither  the  angels  in  heaven  above, 

Nor  the  demons  down  under  the  sea, 
Can  ever  dissever  my  soul  from  the  soul 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee : 

For  the  moon  never  beams,  without  bringing  me  dreams 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
And  the  stars  never  rise,  but  I  feel  the  bright  eyes 

Of  the  beautiful  Annabel  Lee; 
And  so,  all  the  night-tide,  I  lie  down  by  the  side 
Of  my  darling  —  my  darling  —  my  life  and  my  bride, 

In  her  sepulchre  there  by  the  sea, 

In  her  tomb  by  the  sounding  sea. 

— Poe. 
288 


EDGAR  ALLAN    POE    (1809-1849) 
FROM  "  THE  BELLS  " 


"  Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells, 

Silver  bells! 

What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells-1 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night! 
While  the  stars,  that  oversprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight; 
Keeping  time,  time,  time, 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme, 

To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
From  the  jingling  and  the  tinkling  of  the  bells. 


Hear  the  mellow  wedding  belU, 

Golden  bells! 

What  a  world  of  happiness  their  harmony  foretells! 
Through  the  balmy  air  of  night 
How  they  ring  out  their  delight! 
From  the  molten-golden  notes, 

And  all  in  tune, 
What  a  liquid  ditty  floats 
To  the  turtle-dove  that  listens,  while  she  gloats 

On  the  moon! 

Oh,  from  out  the  sounding  cells, 
What  a  gush  of  euphony  voluminously  wells! 
How  it  swells! 
How  it  dwells 

289 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

On  the  Future!  how  it  tells 
Of  the  rapture  that  impels 
To  the  swinging  and  the  ringing 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells, 
Of  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells  — 
To  the  rhyming  and  the  chiming  of  the  bells! 

-Poe. 


290 


XXVIII 

OTHER  SOUTHERN  WRITERS 

POE'S  name  is,  thus  far,  the  greatest  in  Southern  lit- 
erature, and  in  the  colouring  of  his  tales  and  the 
music  of  his  verse,  he  shows  many  touches  of  the 
Southland.  His  life,  however,  seems  to  relate  itself 
more  to  the  North  —  but  as  we  have  said,  he  stands 
apart  from  any  group.  Before  considering  other  in- 
dividual lives,  we  look  briefly  at  the  conditions  that 
existed  in  the  South  before  the  Civil  War. 

There  was  no  public  school  system;  the  wealthy 
employed  tutors,  or  sent  their  children  abroad  to  be 
educated.  There  were  no  great  publishing-houses; 
no  literary  centres  as  Philadelphia,  New  York,  Bos- 
ton, or  Concord.  Puritanism  and  Transcendentalism 
were  almost  unknown.  The  hum  of  the  mill  and  the 
factory  was  not  often  heard  and  there  was  little  com- 
mercialism. The  hospitable  plantation  mansion  was 
presided  over  by  the  cordial  but  aristocratic  gentle- 
man. Its  spirit  imitated  that  of  English  rural  life, 
and  the  study  of  English  manners  and  English  liter- 
ature was  most  popular. 

The  pride  of  the  South  lay  in  her  long  line  of 
orators  and  statesmen,  and  the  famous  documents  and 
addresses  that  she  had  given  to  the  Union  in  its 

291 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

formative  period.  Virginia  laid  stress  upon  being 
"  The  Mother  of  Presidents."  So  law  and  oratory 
and  politics  belonged  to  Southern  traditions,  rather 
than  American  literature,  which  was  somewhat  ig- 
nored, being  considered  trashy.  One  subject,  how- 
ever, was  of  such  vital  import  that  it  was  constantly 
discussed,  and  this  was  the  institution  of  slavery.  It 
came  increasingly  to  the  fore;  the  Northerners  de- 
claimed against  it  so  fiercely  that  the  Southerners 
must  needs  wonder  what  they  would  better  do  with  it; 
and  we  have  spoken  in  a  previous  chapter  of  the  ora- 
tory to  which  this  gave  rise. 

But  there  were  a  few  writers  of  note  on  other  sub- 
jects; among  them,  John  Pendleton  Kennedy  (1795- 
1870),  a  brilliant  statesman  and  one  of  our  earliest 
novelists,  who,  in  his  books,  happily  reproduced  an 
era  that  has  gone.  In  his  "  Horse-shoe  Robinson," 
he  enlarges  on  the  traditions  of  South  Carolina  and 
Revolutionary  days;  while  his  "Swallow  Barn" 
photographs  the  customs  of  a  Virginia  plantation,  at 
the  end  of  the  eighteenth  century.  "  The  aristo- 
cratic old  edifice  sets  like  a  brooding-hen,  on  the 
Southern  bank  of  the  James  River  " —  and  in  typical 
Southern  style.  Kennedy  describes  as  follows  the 
master's  dress  as  he  rides  to  the  court-house :  — 

"  He  is  then  apt  to  make  his  appearance  in  a  coat  of  blue 

broadcloth,  astonishingly  glossy,  and  with  an  unusual  amount 

'  of  plaited  ruffles  strutting  through  the  folds  of  a  Marseilles 

292 


OTHER   SOUTHERN   WRITERS 

waistcoat.  A  worshipful  finish  is  given  to  this  costume  by 
a  large  straw  hat,  lined  with  green  silk.  There  is  a  magis- 
terial fulness  in  his  garments  which  betokens  conditions  in 
the  world,  and  a  heavy  bunch  of  seals,  suspended  by  a 
chain  of  gold,  jingles  as  he  moves,  pronouncing  him  a  man 
of  superfluities." 

Another  writer  of  this  period  was  William  Gil- 
more  Simms  (1806-1870),  the  alert  Charleston 
author,  who  aspired  to  lay  the  foundation  of  a  dis- 
tinct Southern  literature.  He  made  his  home  the 
centre  of  a  group  of  ambitious  young  men  of  letters, 
and  he  begged  them  to  work  and  hold  together  until 
the  world  should  acknowledge  their  achievements. 
It  is  well  that  he  could  not  then  foresee  the  blight 
that  the  Civil  War  would  cast  over  their  brave 
efforts. 

Simms  was  an  indefatigable  writer  of  thirty  novels 
and  seventeen  volumes  of  poetry,  besides  plays,  his- 
torical essays,  and  political  pamphlets.  His  novels 
which  are  all  that  live  to-day  are  very  diverse.  He 
made  good  historical  backgrounds;  his  scenery  was 
picturesque ;  but  his  style  was  pompous,  and  his  finish 
rough  and  careless.  Feuds  and  intrigues  and  mas- 
sacres and  block-house  fights  took  part  in  the  quick 
action  of  his  plots.  He  so  often  introduced  the  In- 
dian that  he  is  styled  "  The  Cooper  of  the  South." 
His  best  tale,  "  The  Yemassee,"  written  in  1835, 
furnishes  a  striking  picture  of  the  Southern  wilderness, 

293 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

in  which  is  an  uprising  of  real,  wide-awake  Indians. 

Among  his  other  works,  are  "  The  Partisan," 
"  Donna  Florida,"  and  "  The  Damsel  of  Darien." 
Whenever  he  had  finished  a  book,  he  was  obliged  to 
take  a  sea-voyage  from  Charleston  to  New  York  in 
order  to  arrange  with  a  publisher.  The  war  ruined 
his  prospects,  and  destroyed  his  lovely  country  home, 
"  Woodlands,"  where  for  years  generous  hospitality 
had  been  dispensed.  Boys  yet  eagerly  read  Simms's 
adventures,  which  bring  anew  an  interesting  era  of 
nearly  a  century  ago;  and  he  must  be  regarded  the 
pioneer  and  patron  of  early  Southern  literature. 
Two  of  the  members  of  the  literary  group  in  Charles- 
ton —  of  which  he  was  the  genius  —  were  Timrod 
and  Hayne. 

Henry  Timrod  (1829-1867),  was  one  of  the  most 
finely  endowed  of  Southern  poets.  As  an  editor  in 
Columbia,  his  printing-office  was  demolished  in  Sher- 
man's "  March  to  the  Sea  ";  but  it  is  as  the  lyrist  of 
love  and  war  and  Nature  that  he  displays  his  clear- 
ness and  simplicity  of  utterance.  Among  his  ring- 
ing war  lyrics  are  "  The  Call  to  Arms  "  and  "  Caro- 
lina ";  and  their  strain  is  as  direct  and  lofty  an  ex- 
pression of  Southern  sentiment  as  some  of  Whittier's 
are  of  Northern.  His  finest  ode  was  written  for  the 
decoration  of  the  soldiers'  graves  in  Magnolia  Ceme- 
tery. His  spontaneous  Nature  passion,  he  has  shown 
in  several  poems  of  singular  beauty.  Here  is  a 
stanza  to  Spring :  — 

294 


OTHER   SOUTHERN   WRITERS 

"  In  the  deep  heart  of  every  forest  tree  2 

The  blood  is  all  aglee, 
And  there's  a  look  about  the  leafless  bowers 
As  if  they  dreamed  of  flowers." 

TimrocTs  life  was  brief,  and  the  two  years  left  him 
after  the  war  was  over,  were  but  a  struggle  with 
hopeless  illness  and  dire  poverty. 

Paul  Hamilton  Hayne  (1830-1886),  is  ranked 
"The  Laureate  of  the  South."  With  a  beautiful 
home,  embracing  a  fine  library  —  every  social  advan- 
tage that  aristocratic  Charleston  could  offer  —  and  an 
ample  fortune  —  he  found  it  easy  to  devote  his  talents 
to  literature.  He  was  selected  as  the  first  editor  of 
"  Russell's  Magazine,"  which,  launched  in  Simms's 
library,  was  intended  to  equal  in  popularity  "  The 
Edinburgh  Review."  Hayne  was  also  the  author  of 
many  forms  of  verse  —  all  of  them  correct  in  metre 
and  profusely  figurative.  Indeed,  in  every  way,  a 
bright  career  seemed  opening  out  before  him.  Then 
the  war  came,  and  he  served  in  the  field  until  too  ill 
either  to  march  or  to  fight,  and  at  its  close,  his  health 
was  shattered  and  his  fortune  lost.  To  gain  support 
and  vigour,  he  fashioned  in  the  Pine  Barrens  of 
Northern  Georgia  a  rude  hut,  like  that  of  Thoreau, 
at  Walden  Pond.  He  planted  flowers  and  fruits, 
and  "  Copse  Hill  "  was  the  gathering-place  for  his 
admiring  friends. 

With  a  courageous  soul,  he  turned  his  thoughts 
295 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

to  Nature,  working  to  the  end,  on  legends  and  lyrics, 
for  which  he  found  inspiration  right  about  his  forest 
home  —  in  violet  or  lily,  or  pine-cone,  or  lake  or 
storm.  The  song  of  the  mocking-bird  allured  him 
as  that  of  the  lark  did  Shelley  —  for  he  tells  how  its 

".     .     .     love  notes  fill  the  enchanted  land; 
Through  leaf-wrought  bars  they  storm  the  stars, 
These  love-songs  of  the  mocking-birds !  " 

Again :  — 

"  When  the  winds  are  whist, 
He  follows  his  mate  to  their  sunset  tryst, 
Where  the  wedded  myrtles  and  jasmine  twine, 
Oh !  the  swell  of  his  music  is  half  divine !  " 

We  have  already  referred  to  another  poet,  Father 
Ryan,  who  as  chaplain  in  the  Confederate  army 
voiced  his  attachment  to  the  South.  His  "  Sword  of 
Robert  Lee  "  is  a  stirring  battle-cry,  while  "  The 
Conquered  Banner  "  is  an  "  eloquent  lament "  over 
defeat.  Indeed,  Ryan  has  been  called  "  The  Laure- 
ate of  the  Lost  Cause."  Some  of  his  poems,  however, 
are  deeply  religious;  and  there  was,  also,  Father 
Tabb,  who  served  in  the  Confederate  army,  was 
taken  prisoner,  and  placed  in  Point  Lookout.  Later, 
he  was  ordained  a  priest  of  the  Roman  Church  and 
became  a  teacher  in  St.  Charles  College,  Maryland. 

296 


OTHER   SOUTHERN   WRITERS 

During  his  last  years  he  was  blind,  and  his  stanzas  of 
rarely  more  than  eight  lines  are  becoming  generally 
known  and  winning  favour.  In  these,  he  gives  artis- 
tic expression  to  a  single  thought,  either  grave  or  gay. 
As  one  has  said:  "These  little  lyrics  flew  like  song- 
birds from  his  seclusion";  and  they  are  well  worth 
memorising,  as  for  example :  — 

"  The  waves  forever  move ; 

The  hills  forever  rest; 
Yet  each  the  heavens  approve, 

And  love  alike  hath  blessed. — 
A  Martha's  household  care, 
A  Mary's  cloistered  prayer." 

Another  one  "  Solitude  " :  — 

"  Like  as  a  brook  that  all  night  long 
Sings,  as  at  noon,  a  babble  song 
To  sleep's  unheeding  ear, 

The  poet  to  himself  must  sing, 

When  none  but  God  is  listening 
The  lullaby  to  hear." 

And  how  sweetly  he  proclaims  his  simple  Creed 
in  his  poem,  "  The  Christ  " :  — 

"Thou  hast  on  eartb  a  Trinity, — 
Thyself,  my  fellow-man,  and  me; 
When  one  with  him,  then  one  with  Thee; 
Nor,  save  together,  Thine  are  we." 
297 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Of  this  band  of  Southland  poets,  Sidney  Lanier 
(1842-1881),  ranks  next  to  Poe  in  his  ideals  and 
poetic  impulse;  but  his  life-story  has  in  it  the  same 
pathos  that  belongs  to  the  lives  of  Timrod  and  Hayne 
—  the  desolation  of  Civil  War,  and  the  later  almost 
despairing  conflict  with  feebleness  and  lack  of  means. 
He  was  born  in  Macon,  Georgia,  on  February  third, 
1842,  and  claimed  a  musical  ancestry,  even  as  far 
back  as  Queen  Elizabeth.  So  it  was  natural  that 
even  before  he  could  read  well,  he  could  improvise 
upon  the  flute,  guitar,  piano  and  organ  —  and  he 
might  have  included  the  violin,  had  not  his  father 
discovered  that  its  music  affected  him  strangely. 

He  graduated  at  Oglethorpe  College,  and  feeling 
called  to  a  literary  career,  he  was  hoping  for  a  year 
abroad  at  a  German  university.  But  he  was  sud- 
denly awakened  from  his  dreams  by  the  opening  guns 
of  the  Civil  War.  Responding  to  the  appeals  of  im- 
passioned orators  as  the  war  fever  swept  over  the 
Southern  States,  he  joined  the  Confederate  army. 
Three  times  he  was  offered  promotion,  but  preferred 
to  remain  with  a  younger  brother  who  enlisted  with 
him.  Finally,  he  was  captured  and  imprisoned  in 
Point  Lookout;  but  he  carried  with  him  his  beloved 
flute  concealed  in  his  sleeve,  and  with  it  he  enlivened 
many  tedious  hours  for  the  other  prisoners,  during 
the  five  months  he  was  held  here.  On  his  release, 
he  made  way  on  foot  to  his  home  in  Macon.  He 
was  an  excellent  critic  and  in  his  novel,  "  Tiger 

298 


OTHER   SOUTHERN   WRITERS 

Lilies,'5  he  later  gave  his  war  impressions;  and  he 
never  recovered  from  the  hard  conditions  that  he  had 
faced. 

After  the  war,  he  was  at  one  time  a  clerk,  at  an- 
other he  studied  law  with  his  father,  for  he  said  that 
he  had  to  win  bread  for  his  family  while  a  thousand 
songs  were  ringing  in  his  heart.  When  he  could  no 
longer  endure  such  an  existence,  "  taking  his  flute 
and  pen  for  sword  and  staff,"  he  went  to  live  in  Balti- 
more, for  there  he  could  listen  to  orchestras  and 
browse  on  libraries.  Music  and  poetry  were  his 
two  master  passions.  The  rest  of  his  life  he  con- 
tended against  poverty  and  the  ravages  of  consump- 
tion. 

He  was  one  of  the  marvellous  flute-players  of 
America,  and  as  a  flutist  won  his  way  everywhere, 
and  soon  obtained  a  position  in  the  Peabody  Orches- 
tra. He  was  greatly  attracted  to  such  music,  and 
formed  a  scheme  for  travelling  orchestras  so  that 
young  people  might  be  educated  to  an  appreciation  of 
the  finest  symphonies. 

He  read  and  studied  and  wrote  so  diligently  that 
he  was  soon  known  in  Baltimore  as  a  man  of  letters. 
He  loved  quaint  and  curious  bits  of  literature  and 
embodied  them  in  books  for  boys.  Among  them 
were  "  The  Boy's  King  Arthur,"  "  The  Boy's  Percy/' 
and  "  The  Boy's  Froissart."  He  also  wrote  excel- 
lent critical  studies  on  English  verse  and  the  English 
novel. 

299 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Like  Timrod  and  Hayne,  Lanier  is  filled  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Southland.  His  poetic  themes  are  love, 
Nature,  and  faith,  and  in  remarkable  feeling  for  tone 
and  colour,  expressed  in  felicitous  words.  His 
poems  are  among  the  rarest  in  our  literature,  and  a 
few  extracts  are  chosen :  — 

"  Music  is  love  in  search  of  a  word." 

"  His  song  was  only  living  aloud, 
His  work,  a  singing  with  his  hands." 


"  Thou'rt  only  a  grey  and  sober  dove, 
But  thine  eye  is  faith  and  thy  wing  is  love." 

His  "  Corn  "  which  is  full  of  "  green  things  grow- 
ing "  has  often  been  counted  his  master-song,  for 
when  it  came  out  in  "  Lippincott's,"  in  1874,  it  drew 
attention  to  his  other  poetry. 

We  seldom  find  a  Southern  robin  in  literature ;  but 
Lanier,  in  "  lyrical  outburst,"  writes  his  "  Tampa 
Robin  " :  — 

"  The  robin  laughed  in  the  orange-tree ; 

'  Ho,  windy  North,  a  fig  for  thee: 
While  breasts  are  red  and  wings  are  bold 
And  green  trees  wave  us  globes  of  gold, 
Time's  scythe  shall  reap  but  bliss  for  me 
—  Sunlight,  song,  and  the  orange-tree. 

"I'll  south  with  the  sun  and  keep  my  clime; 
My  wing  is  king  of  the  summer-time ; 
300 


OTHER    SOUTHERN    WRITERS 

My  breast  to  the  sun  his  torch  shall  hold ; 
And  I'll  call  down  through  the  green  and  gold, 
Time,  take  thy  scythe,  reap  bliss  for  me, 
Bestir  thee  under  the  orange-tree!  " 

Would  we  know  of  Lanier's  euphony,  read  a 
stanza  from  his  "  Song  of  the  Chattahoochee,"  which 
ripples  and  flows  along  like  Tennyson's  "  Brook  " :  — 

"  Out  of  the  hills  of  Habersham, 

Down  the  valleys  of  Hall,  J 

I  hurry  amain  to  reach  the  plain, 
Run  the  rapid  and  leap  the  fall, 
Split  at  the  rock  and  together  again, 
Accept  my  bed,  or  narrow  or  wide, 
And  flee  from  folly  on  every  side, 
With  a  lover's  pain  to  attain  the  plain, 
Far  from  the  hills  of  Habersham, 
Far  from  the  valleys  of  Hall." 

In  his  "  Ballad  of  Trees  and  the  Master,"  Lanier 
shows  his  power  in  religious  verse.  In  this  he  rever- 
ently touches  the  life  of  our  Lord,  in  his  dramatic 
presentation  of  the  scenes  in  Gethsemane  and  on 
Calvary;  while  his  noblest  poem,  "  The  Marshes  of 
Glynn,"  manifests  in  sweeping  and  rhythmic  metre, 
his  earnest  faith  in  God.  In  all  Lanier's  writings, 
one  detects  his  intense  love  of  beauty  and  his  attempt 
to  correlate  music  and  poetry. 

He  received  the  appointment  of  lecturer  on  Eng- 
lish literature  in  Johns  Hopkins  University,  Balti- 

301 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

more,  but  he  could  not  hold  it  long  on  account  of  fail- 
ing strength;  and  he  travelled  much  but  he  grew 
weaker  and  weaker.  The  glow  of  sunrise  had  ever 
been  in  his  poems  — "  Sunrise  "  was  his  swan-song, 
and  thus  it  ended :  — 

"  The  sun  is  brave,  the  sun  is  bright, 
The  sun  is  lord  of  love  and  light, 
But  after  him  it  cometh  night " — 

and  his  short,  troubled  life  closed  on  September 
seventh,  1881. 

The  names  of  Timrod,  Hayne,  and  Lanier,  will 
have  lasting  place  in  every  anthology  of  American 
men  of  letters,  by  reason  of  their  pure  and  elevating 
gifts,  and  the  sadness  and  courage  of  their  lives. 

Lanier  believed  implicitly  that  his  Southland  would 
be  redeemed;  but  he  could  not  in  most  eager  vision 
have  prophesied  the  wondrous  evolution  of  the  New 
South.  Here  plough  and  mill  and  factory  are  busily 
at  work.  Public  schools  are  established  all  over  the 
land,  and  everywhere  cities  are  rapidly  growing. 
And  what  wonderful  strides  have  been  made  in  liter- 
ary progress  —  enough  to  satisfy  the  most  wide-awake 
reader.  Our  story  does  not  concern  living  authors, 
else  we  should  dwell  upon  the  fascinating  masters  ot 
the  story  that  perhaps  first  caught  their  genius  for 
construction  from  Edgar  Poe.  Vivid  and  romantic 
pictures  there  are  of  quaint  "  Old  Creole  Days  " ; 

302 


OTHER   SOUTHERN   WRITERS 

"  The  Grandissimes  "  is  replete  with  episode  and 
mirth;  "  Dr.  Sevier  "  is  delicate  and  artistic. 

Lovable  "  Uncle  Remus  "  introduces  us  to  "  Brer 
Rabbit,"  "  Brer  Fox  "  and  "  Brer  B'ar,"  who  fas- 
cinate  us  alike  with  folk-lore  and  philosophy.  "  In 
Ole  Virginia  "  we  read  of  plantation  life  during  the 
war.  Who  does  not  know  "  Marse  Chan "  and 
"Meh  Lady"? 

Another  lures  us  away  into  the  remote  wilds  of  the 
Tennessee  mountains,  and  lets  us  into  the  secrets  of 
a  gloomy  and  powerful  race ;  and  then  we  may  emerge 
into  the  broad  sunshine  of  the  Kentucky  "  blue-grass 
region  " —  listen  to  the  song  of  the  cardinal,  and  revel 
in  the  witchery  of  meadows  and  hempfields,  sunny 
skies,  and  wild  forests,  as  pictured  in  the  sketches  of 
its  literary  artist.  Maurice  Thompson  speaks  of  the 
South  as  the  land 


.     .     whose  gaze  is  cast 
No  more  upon  the  pait." 


303 


XXIX 

WESTERN  LITERATURE 

VERY  like  the  New  England  colonists  were  the  self- 
reliant  pioneers  of  the  West,  working  shoulder  to 
shoulder,  with  push  and  energy,  following  the  trail 
over  the  aboriginal  mountains  or  through  the  dense 
woods,  fighting  Indians  or  wild  beasts,  mining  for 
gold,  or  building  camps  and  towns  —  and  their  as- 
sertive, democratic  character  is  seen  in  the  books  of 
their  authors  as  in  the  speeches  of  their  political  lead- 
ers; and  while  in  the  South,  we  have  the  note  of  the 
lyrist  or  the  romancer,  in  the  West,  we  may  gather 
tales  of  bold  and  picturesque  adventure. 

With  scant  traditions  and  few  high  schools,  the 
busy  West  made  a  tardy  beginning  in  literature,  but 
its  growth  has  been  unchecked,  until  to-day  as  we  fol- 
low the  sweep  of  civilisation  across  our  broad  land, 
we  find  an  unbroken  line  of  authors.  We  study  the 
lives  of  some  of  these  to  learn  what  has  been  accom- 
plished. 

First,  there  is  Bret  Harte  (1839-1902),  who  is  a 
kind  of  historian  of  an  early  era,  for  his  renown  rests 
on  his  making  California  life  —  in  phases  both  good 
and  bad  —  known  to  the  world  in  the  days  of  the 
modern  Argonauts.  The  son  of  a  Greek  professor 

304 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

of  Albany,  New  York,  he  was  deemed  a  precocious 
rather  than  a  scholarly  boy;  but  even  at  seven,  he 
pored  over  Dickens,  just  because  he  liked  his  way  of 
saying  things.  As  he  older  grew,  visions  of  golden 
air-castles  floated  before  him  as  he  marvelled  at  the 
almost  unbelievable  stories  that  came  to  the  East  — 
of  the  finds  of  California  —  stories  that  lured  many 
a  youth  to  the  then  distant  Pacific  coast. 

When  he  was  fifteen,  his  father  having  died,  he 
took  his  mother  and  started  West  to  pick  up  a  for- 
tune ready  to  his  hand.  What  unusual  scenes  must 
have  opened  on  the  eyes  of  both  mother  and  son 
when  they  reached  California,  coming  as  they  did 
from  dignified,  conservative  Albany !  For  they  were 
at  once  face  to  face  with  novel  and  chaotic  social  con- 
ditions; this  sparsely-settled  land  of  majestic  moun- 
tains, primeval  forests,  rugged  canyons,  and  flashing 
sea-coast,  had  been  suddenly  altered  into  a  very  wild- 
wood  of  freedom. 

Few  women  were  to  be  seen ;  but  thousands  of  men 
in  red  shirts  and  high-topped  boots  were  digging  for 
gold;  some  of  them  heroic  men,  delving  with  restless, 
homesick  energy  for  a  hoard  just  large  enough  to 
transport  their  families  thither.  Rugged  workmen, 
too,  there  were;  and  vagabonds  and  fugitives  from 
justice  —  and  they  varied  the  digging  by  gambling 
and  duelling  and  much  easy  sword  practice. 

But  Harte  did  not,  at  once,  enter  into  his  "  El 
Dorado."  After  a  time  his  mother  married  again. 

305 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  made  many  ventures,  he  policed  the  safes  of  the 
"  Wells  and  Fargo  Express  Company  "  from  bandits; 
he  was,  in  turn,  collector,  druggist,  school-teacher, 
and  secretary  of  the  mint,  and  finally  from  being  a 
printer,  he  graduated  into  editorial  work,  and  was 
one  of  a  group  of  young  journalists  —  among  them 
was  Mark  Twain  —  all  full  of  hope  in  the  future; 
and  Harte  was  later  made  editor  of  the  newly-started 
"  Overland  Monthly." 

His  various  occupations  had  taken  him  all  over  the 
country,  and  with  rare  mimetic  quality  and  keen  sen- 
sitiveness for  the  spectacular,  he  had  collected  ma- 
terials for  many  short  stories,  and  these  were  his  gold 
mines  which  he  profitably  worked  for  years.  They 
were  not  like  those  of  Dickens  but  written  in  the  same 
sympathetic  spirit  —  and  with  Irving,  Poe,  and  Haw- 
thorne, he  is  conspicuous  among  our  creators  of  the 
short  story.  His  style  is  individual  and  he  has  an 
astounding  vocabulary.  Most  of  his  characters  are 
apprehended  with  realistic  humour  and  pathos,  from 
real  life. 

After  several  of  Harte's  books  had  been  published 
and  welcomed,  it  was  suggested  that  they  would  be 
even  more  telling,  if  he  would  try  romance.  Then 
"  The  Luck  of  Roaring  Camp "  appeared.  Its 
characterisation  was  so  rough  and  unusual  that  it  was 
severely  criticised,  but  it  attracted  notice  everywhere, 
and  "  The  Atlantic  "  immediately  asked  for  another 
story  after  the  same  manner.  This  gave  Bret  Harte 

306 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

reputation  for  his  tales,  while  "  The  Heathen 
Chinee,"  somewhat  later,  made  his  name  as  a 
humourous  poet. 

At  this  period,  Chinese  "  cheap  labour  "  was  the 
war-cry  and  "  He  went  for  the  Heathen  Chinee  1  " 
and  immortalised  him.  Many  other  poems  of 
Harte's  are  very  popular;  so,  as  well,  are  his  prose 
tales,  for  he  was  an  incessant  writer.  He  had  no 
rival  in  his  descriptions  of  old  California  sights  and 
sounds.  Sometimes  he  delivered  lectures;  the  one 
most  often  heard  was  "  The  Argonauts  of  Forty- 
nine."  But  slow  of  thought  and  speech,  he  cared 
little  for  lecturing. 

A  man  of  strong  impulse,  he  was  weak  in  charac- 
ter; he  was  true  to  a  present  friend  while  ignoring  an 
absent  one.  He  was  uncertain  in  keeping  appoint-, 
mcnts  and  most  improvident  in  financial  concerns; 
there  was  a  vein  of  satire  in  his  editorial  columns  that 
grew  more  evident;  he  did  not  hold  his  own  in  the 
world  of  letters;  and  after  a  few  years,  he  lost  favour 
in  San  Francisco.  He  came  East  and  wrote  for 
"  The  Atlantic  "  and  other  periodicals.  He  lived 
an  irregular  life,  always  beyond  his  -  income,  and 
finally,  in  1878,  left  his  family  to  accept  the  consulate 
at  Crefeld,  Germany,  and  was  soon  transferred  to 
Glasgow,  Scotland;  but  he  was  "  a  wandering  comet  " 
— -he  did  not  meet  his  duties  squarely  —  and  was 
presently  removed  from  the  consular  service. 

However,  as  a  polished  gentleman  and  a  man  of 
307 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

letters,  he  was  taken  more  seriously  in  England  than 
elsewhere.  England  liked  his  books,  placed  them 
on  her  book-shelves,  and  highly  estimated  their 
author.  And  in  England  he  spent  his  later  years  and 
died,  in  1902,  at  Camberly,  Surrey.  And  Wood- 
berry  says : — 

"  He  had  no  rival  and  left  no  successor.  His  work  is  as 
unique  as  that  of  Poe  or  Hawthorne." 

From  Bret  Harte's  career,  it  is  pleasant  to  review 
that  of  Eugene  Field  (1850-1895),  for  he  is  the 
laureate  that  the  Middle  West  has  given  to  children. 
His  first  leaning  towards  literature  came  to  him 
when  as  a  little  boy  in  St.  Louis,  his  grandmother 
made  him  write  sermons,  and  paid  him  ninepence 
for  every  one  that  he  wrote.  He  was  very  carefully 
educated  but  he  could  not  graduate  at  college,  for 
his  father  died  and  the  money  gave  out.  But  he  was 
soon  hard  at  work  at  journalism  and  finally  settled  in 
Chicago,  engaged  on  the  editorial  staff  of  "  The 
Daily  News." 

He  describes  as  follows  the  romance  of  his  life :  — 

"  A  little  bit  of  a  woman  came 
Athwart  my  path  one  day; 


That  little  bit  of  a  woman  cast 
Her  two  eyes  full  on  me, 

308 


Copyright,  1906,  by  1'ach  Bros.,  N.  Y 
SAMUEL  L.  CLEMENS 


WESTERN    LITERATURE 

And  they  smote  me  sore  to  my  inmost  core 
And  they  held  me  slaved  forevermore, 
Yet  would  I  not  be  free. 


And  I'm  proud  to  say  that  I  bless  the  day 
When  a  little  woman  wrought  her  way 
Into  this  life  of  mine!  " 

And  in  Chicago,  this  winsome  man  and  his  family 
were  perfectly  idolised.  He  was  the  leader  of  "  The 
Saints'  and  Sinners'  Club,"  the  "  Saints  "  being  three 
Chicago  clergymen.  He  illustrated  manuscripts  for 
his  friends  and  in  many  directions  interested  them  in 
literature.  He  treasured  his  books,  using  the  gentlest 
touch  in  opening  and  closing  them.  He  was  a  gath- 
erer of  rare  editions :  — 

"  Such  as  bibliophiles  adore  — 
Books  and  prints  in  endless  store  — 
Treasures  singly  or  in  sets." 

His  poems  and  prose  later  have  won  alike  the 
hearts  of  grown-ups  and  children;  but  especially  to 
the  latter,  he  dedicated  exquisite  lines  —  and  how 
they,  in  return,  lavished  upon  him  their  affection.  To 
assist  in  his  work,  he  kept  in  his  library  a  curious  col- 
lection of  toys  and  trinkets  and  dolls  and  animals; 
and  "  each  spinster  doll,  and  each  toy  animal  and 
each  tin  soldier,  had  a  part  to  play  in  some  poem." 
The  best-known  of  his  works  are  "  A  Little  Book  of 

309 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Western  Verse,"  and  "  A  Little  Book  of  Profitable 
Tales,"  and  a  variety  of  juveniles  appear  in  these. 
Who  that  has  read  it  can  ever  forget  "  Little  Boy 
Blue  "  ?  Or  who  can  overlook  the  moral  so  pathet- 
ically emphasised  in  that  "  little  peach  of  emerald 
hue  "  that  dawned  on  the  sight  of  Johnny  Jones  and 
his  sister  Sue? 

"  John  took  a  bite  and  Sue  a  chew, 
And  then  the  trouble  began  to  brew, — 
Trouble  the  doctor  couldn't  subdue, 
Too  true! 

Under  the  turf  where  the  daisies  grew, 
They  planted  John  and  his  sister  Sue, 
And  their  little  souls  to  the  angels  flew, — 
Boo  hoo !  " 

Field  hoped  to  write  a  "  Modern  Mother  Goose," 
founded  upon  Indian  folk-lore,  but  this  he  was  un- 
able to  do. 

He  was  a  universal  joker,  and  he  had  great  power 
of  adaptation,  even  to  taking  the  epitaph  on  Shakes- 
peare's tomb  and  fitting  it  as  follows  to  his  own  por- 
trait, and  as  an  advertisement  for  his  works :  — 

"  Sweete  friends,  for  mercy's  sake  forbeare 
To  criticise  ys  visage  here; 
But  reade  my  bookes 
Which,  spite  my  lookes 
Ben  fulle  of  mightie  plaisaunt  cheere." 

Another  like  Bret  Harte,  to  preserve  contemporary 
310 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

life  in  the  West,  was  Samuel  J.  Clemens,  so  familiarly 
known  as  Mark  Twain,  the  celebrated  humourist, 
standing  perhaps  above,  and  separate  from  the  other 
two.  Born  in  Missouri,  he  spent  his  boyhood  in 
Hannibal.  Possibly  he  would  not  have  called  this  so 
feelingly  "  a  loafy,  down-at-the  heel,  slave-holding 
Mississippi  town,"  if  he  could  have  imagined  that, 
in  1912,  his  first  home  would  be  presented  to  the  city 
by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  A.  Mahan;  and  accom- 
panied by  a  bas-relief  portrait,  and  a  memorial  tablet, 
which  bears  these  words :  — 

"  Mark  Twain's  life  teaches  that  poverty  is  an  incentive 
rather  than  a  bar,  and  that  any  boy,  however  humble  his 
birth  and  surroundings,  may  by  honesty  and  industry  ac- 
complish great  things." 

Samuel's  father  died  when  he  was  but  twelve,  and 
he  left  school  to  become  a  printer,  a  vocation  which 
he  pursued  in  different  places  for  eight  years;  and 
printing  the  words  of  others  led  him  to  the  desire  of 
being  an  author  himself,  and  yet  his  strongest  am- 
bition was  to  serve  as  pilot  on  the  Mississippi;  and 
when  the  opportunity  came,  he  gladly  quit  printing, 
and  hoped  to  live  a  pilot  and  die  at  the  wheel,  but 
during  the  war,  the  river  lost  its  commerce. 

He  next  went  to  visit  Nevada,  the  land  of  outlaws, 
mining-camps,  and  murders.  He  did  not  escape  the 
mining  fever  and  journeyed  to  California  —  then  wan- 
dered away  to  the  Sandwich  Islands.  In  San  Fran- 
cisco, he  reported  for  a  newspaper;  his  humourous 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

sketches  brought  him  into  notice,  and  he  began  to  lec- 
ture. Later,  he  travelled  in  Europe,  Egypt,  and  the 
Holy  Land.  Then  as  partner  in  a  publishing-house 
that  failed,  he  lost  every  cent  of  his  well-earned  for- 
tune ;  and  like  Walter  Scott,  in  similar  emergency,  he 
assumed  the  whole  debt  and  wrote  untiringly  until  he 
had  paid  every  penny  of  the  firm's  indebtedness.  In 
his  last  years,  Mark  Twain  lived  in  Hartford,  Con- 
necticut, where  he  and  his  wife  entertained  delight- 
fully, and  yet  a  later  home  was  at  Redding,  not  very 
far  distant. 

The  bare  facts  of  this  life  do  not  sound  literary, 
but  few  Americans  hold  a  more  secure  place  in  the 
affection  of  readers  of  all  classes  than  Mark  Twain; 
and  we  have  hurried  over  the  plain  facts  that  we  may 
take  a  second  view  from  a  literary  standpoint,  and 
first  as  to  his  early  scholarly  preferences,  and  these 
they  were :  "  I  like  history,  biography,  travels,  curi- 
ous facts  and  strange  happenings,  and  science;  and 
I  detest  novels,  poetry,  and  theology."  His  views 
certainly  changed  in  time  —  at  least  in  regard  to 
novels. 

In  the  beginning,  he  wrote  much  for  boys :  for  fol- 
lowing in  the  steps  of  T.  B.  Aldrich's  "  Bad  Boy,"  his 
'  Tom  Sawyer  "  and  "  Huckleberry  Finn  "  embody 
experiences  of  his  boyhood.  "  Tom  Sawyer  "  is  a 
tale  of  his  days  spent  at  a  wretched  Western  school, 
and  into  it,  are  woven  Indians  and  witches  and  charms, 
a  maiden,  a  bit  of  camp  life  —  all  actual  scenes  en- 

312 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

acted  by  wide-awake  boys;  while  "Huckleberry 
Finn  " — "  The  Odyssey  of  the  Mississippi  " —  holds 
the  interest  by  the  novelty  of  its  incidents.  Perhaps 
the  vital  one  is  when  Huck  debates  with  himself 
whether  it  is  his  duty  to  save  Jim,  the  runaway  slave, 
or  to  deliver  him  to  his  master.  "  Huckleberry 
Finn  "  is  Mark  Twain's  classic. 

His  "  Stories  of  the  Mississippi  Valley  "  form  an 
amusing  fragment  of  his  own  autobiography.  Over 
and  over  he  heard  the  sounder  cry  out  "  mark  twain  1  " 
as  the  lead  drops  two  fathoms,  and  in  this  quaint, 
practical  phrase  originated  his  pen-name.  He  had  a 
knack  as  a  pilot  of  picking  up  all  sorts  of  specimens  of 
human  nature,  and  presenting  them  to  the  reader;  and 
the  "  Father  of  Waters  "  itself,  here  and  elsewhere 
in  his  books,  inspired  him  as  the  Hudson  inspired  Irv- 
ing. 

After  his  extensive  travels,  he  wrote  his  "  Inno- 
cents Abroad,"  and  afterwards  his  "  Tramps 
Abroad  " ;  the  former  specially  is  inexpressibly  funny 
with  the  pretensions  of  some  of  the  "  Innocents  "  in 
their  absurd  situations  —  and  as  long  as  the  world 
laughs,  it  will  be  popular.  It  has  been  published  in 
several  languages,  and  rewarded  its  author  with  fame 
and  fortune. 

"  Pudd'nhead  Wilson  "  is  a  slave  story  with  a  most 
philosophic  hero. 

Twain's  "  Jumping  Frog  " —  known  to  everybody 
—  was  written  in  San  Francisco.  Bret  Harte  said 

313 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

that  it  never  could  be  so  funny  to  anyone  as  to  him 
when  Mark  Twain  repeated  it  in  his  drawling  tones. 
There  is  much  beauty  and  a  stern  sense  of  justice  in 
his  "  Personal  Recollections  of  Joan  of  Arc."  His 
English  stories,  "  The  Prince  and  the  Pauper,"  and 
"A  Connecticut  Yankee  at  King  Arthur's  Court," 
are  placed  against  carefully  studied  backgrounds. 

To  call  Mark  Twain  just  a  humourist  would  be  as 
one  has  said  to  describe  Shakespeare  as  a  strolling- 
player.  Back  of  his  humour  are  always  the  philoso- 
pher and  reformer.  He  loved  to  hit  hard  at  hypocrisy 
and  every  insincerity,  and  admired  noble  character. 
As  to  his  emphatic  style,  he  had  a  saying:  "As  to  the 
adjective,  when  in  doubt,  strike  it  outl"  And  yet 
with  Franklin,  Holmes,  and  Lowell,  his  humour  was 
most  genial,  even  though  the  underlying  purpose  was 
clear. 

Many  Clemensesque  experiences  might  be  re- 
corded, did  space  permit.  The  accompanying  one  is 
pleasing  or  trying,  which  ever  we  choose  to  think  it: 

One  morning  going  to  breakfast  before  his  wife, 
he  discovered  at  her  plate  a  bulky  envelope  bearing 
foreign  stamps.  His  curiosity  overcame  him;  he 
opened  it  to  find  a  detailed  account  of  his  own  death 
and  burial  in  Australia, —  and  a  note  of  condolence 
to  Mrs.  Clemens.  The  description  was  so  touching 
that  it  moved  him  to  tears,'  and  later  when  he  was  in 
Australia,  he  visited  the  tomb  of  the  impostor  who 
had  impersonated  him  there. 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

And  in  closing,  just  one  reference  to  his  unswerving 
love  to  his  family,  as  evinced  when  he  had  the  fol- 
lowing epitaph  by  Robert  Richardson  placed  over  his 
daughter's  grave :  — 

"  Warm  Summer  sun, 

Shine  kindly  here, 
Warm  Southern  wind 

Blow  softly  here, 
Green  sod  above 

Lie  light,  lie  light, 
Good  night,  dear  heart, 

Good   night,   good  night." 

He  founded  at  Redding,  a  public  library,  and  since 
his  death  Mr.  Andrew  Carnegie  has  made  this  self- 
supporting,  to  be  known  for  ever  as  "  The  Mark 
Twain  Memorial  Library." 

Of  Mark  Twain,  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  has 
written :  — 

11  Those  who  know  the  story  of  his  friendship  and  his 
family  life  know  that  he  was  one  who  '  loved  much '  and 
faithfully,  even  unto  the  end.  Those  who  know  his  work 
as  a  whole  know  that  under  the  lambent  and  irrepressible 
humour  which  was  his  gift  there  was  a  foundation  of  seri- 
ous thought  and  noble  affections  and  desires." 

And  out  of  the  new  West  have  come  other  writers. 
Among  them,  Edward  Eggleston,  the  editor,  novelist, 
and  itinerant  preacher,  who,  in  his  Hoosier  stories, 
has  made  us  acquainted  with  picturesque  characters 

315 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

and  log-cabin  life.  And  if  we  would  seek  a  master- 
bard,  "  The  Poet  of  the  Sierras  "  has  long  stood  apart 
like  a  mountain  peak,  giving  to  the  world  from  time 
to  time  glimpses  of  wild  beauty  and  rugged  grandeur 
as  hs  has  written  of  Western  scenery  and  people;  and 
he  yet  lives  to  reminisce  of  the  early  California  days. 
And  now  some  of  our  best  poets  and  historians  and 
novel-writers  are  in  the  Western  States.  As  truly  as 
"  Westward  the  course  of  Empire  holds  its  way  " — 
so  truly,  "  Westward  the  course  of  literature  shall 
hold  its  way." 

WYNKEN,  BLYNKEN,  AND  NOD 
(Dutch  Lullaby.) 

"  Wynken,  Blynken,  and  Nod  one  night 

Sailed  off  in  a  wooden  shoe, — 
Sailed  on  a  river  of  crystal  light, 

Into  a  sea  of  dew. 
'Where  are  you  going,  and  what  do  you  wish?' 

The  old  moon  asked  the  three. 
'  We  have  come  to  fish  for  the  herring-fish 
That  live  in  this  beautiful  sea; 
Nets  of  silver  and  gold  have  we! ' 
Said  Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

The  old  moon  laughed  and  sang  a  song, 

As  they  rocked  in  the  wooden  shoe, 
And  the  wind  that  sped  them  all  night  long 

Ruffled  the  waves  of  dew. 

316 


WESTERN   LITERATURE 

The  little  stars  were  the  herring-fish 
That  lived  in  the  beautiful  sea  — 
*  Now  cast  your  nets  wherever  you  wish, — 
Never  afeared  are  we ! ' 
So  cried  the  stars  to  the  fishermen  three : 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

All  night  long  their  nets  they  threw 

To  the  stars  in  the  twinkling  foam, — 
Then  down  from  the  skies  came  the  wooden  shoe, 

Bringing  the  fishermen  home; 
Twas  all  so  pretty  a  sail  it  seemed 

As  if  it  could  not  be, 

And  some  folks  thought  'twas  a  dream  they'd  dreamed 
Of  sailing  that  beautiful  sea; 
But  I  shall  name  you  the  fishermen  three: 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod. 

Wynken  and  Blynken  are  two  little  eyes, 

And  Nod  is  a  little  head. 
And  the  wooden  shoe  that  sailed  the  skies 

Is  a  wee  one's  trundle-bed ; 
So  shut  your  eyes  while  mother  sings 

Of  wonderful  sights  that  be, 
And  you  shall  see  the  beautiful  things 
As  you  rock  in  the  misty  sea, 
Where  the  old  shoe  rocked  the  fishermen  three: 
Wynken, 
Blynken, 
And  Nod." 

—  Field. 
317 


XXX 

A  GROUP  OF  EASTERN  AUTHORS 

IT  takes  many  lives  to  form  a  rounded  literary  tale, 
and  the  following  chapter  contains  a  few  vignettes  of 
others  who  claim  mention  in  our  book ;  most  of  them 
have  died  so  recently  that  we  could  not,  if  we  would, 
place  them  in  fair  perspective.  Prominent  among 
these  are  Taylor,  Crawford,  Hale,  Stockton,  Whit- 
man, Stoddard,  Stedman,  and  Aldrich. 

Bayard  Taylor  (1825-1878),  was  a  Pennsylvania 
boy  of  Quaker  family,  of  whom  a  phrenologist  early 
foretold  that  his  vagabond  instincts  would  control 
his  life;  and  with  a  hundred  and  forty  dollars,  a  few 
newspaper  promises,  his  knapsack  and  wunderstaff, 
he  started  out  at  nineteen  to  fulfil  the  prophecy;  he 
spent  two  years  in  Europe,  tramping  over  three  thou- 
sand miles,  and  learning  to  live  on  six  cents  a  day. 
This  sojourn  his  biographer  calls  his  "  University 
education." 

On  his  return,  his  letters  to  "  The  New  York  Trib- 
une "  and  other  papers  were  collected  into  a  volume, 
and  readers  were  enthusiastic  over  the  pluck  displayed 
in  "  Views  Afoot."  One  has  wondered  what  he  might 
have  accomplished  if  he  had  owned  a  bicycle  —  for 
with  feet  attached  to  pedals,  "  Views  A-Bicycle  " 


A  GROUP  OF   EASTERN  AUTHORS 

would  have  multiplied  his  opportunities  a  hundred- 
fold. Then  when  the  gold  fever  of  '49  caught  the 
East,  he  followed  the  Argonauts  to  California  as  cor- 
respondent of  the  "  Tribune,"  and  took  in  Mexico  on 
the  way  back. 

In  later  trips,  he  wandered  from  Iceland  to  Cape 
of  Good  Hope,  and  in  the  East  as  far  as  India,  China, 
and  Japan,  always  with  pen  in  hand,  mastering  lan- 
guages, wearing  native  dress,  and  as  far  as  possible 
assimilating  native  customs.  So  his  travel  books  are 
glowing  pictures  of  actual  things,  but  they  are  utterly 
devoid  of  the  historical  setting  that  would  have  en- 
hanced their  value.  At  one  time  he  was  secretary  of 
the  United  States  legation  at  St.  Petersburg,  and  he 
died  in  1878,  while  on  a  mission  to  Germany. 

In  his  writings,  he  emphasised  his  love  for  his  early 
home,  Kennett  Square,  Pennsylvania,  by  building 
there  his  stately  residence  "  Cedarcroft " ;  and  it  is 
with  this  that  his  novels  are  associated.  "  The  Story 
of  Kennett "  is  by  many  ranked  his  best  book.  He 
acquired  extensive  knowledge  of  German  classics,  and 
among  his  translations,  that  of  Goethe's  "  Faust "  is 
most  faithful  and  sympathetic.  He  was,  also,  an  in- 
teresting lecturer  on  a  wide  range  of  themes,  but  he 
cared  not  to  be  noted  either  as  traveller  or  lecturer, 
and  his  aim  was  to  be  a  famous  poet. 

This  ideal  he  never  reached;  he  had  lyrical  genius 
and  has  written  a  fair  amount  of  verse  —  but  he  may 
not  be  ranked  great ;  for  his  versatility  hindered  con- 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

centrated  effort,  and  besides  he  wasted  talent  on  what 
was  commonplace.  His  finest  dramatic  poem  un- 
doubtedly is  "  The  Masque  of  the  Gods."  His 
"  Centennial  Ode "  was  read  at  Philadelphia,  in 
1876.  Among  his  longer  poems  is  "Lars:  a  pas- 
toral of  Norway  ";  in  his  lyrics  is  "  The  Song  of  the 
Camp,"  in  which  are  the  familiar  lines:  — 

"  The  bravest  are  the  tenderest, 
The  loving  are  the  daring." 

His  "  Bedouin  Song,"  is  thought  by  some  to  hold  its 
own  among  our  choicest  love  lyrics. 

This  self-made  man  was  master  of  a  score  of  lan- 
guages, and  shared  fellowship  with  authors  the  earth 
around,  and  he  wrote  more  than  fifty  books.  He  is 
remembered,  however,  as  poet  and  translator. 

Marion  Crawford  (1854-1909),  the  son  of  a 
sculptor,  was  born  in  Rome,  and  spent  so  much  of  his 
life  there  and  in  other  foreign  cities,  that  in  Italy  he 
was  taken  for  an  Italian  —  in  France  for  a  French- 
man —  in  Germany  for  a  German.  One  of  the 
most  prolific  of  writers,  he  published  in  twelve  years 
twenty-five  books  —  his  daily  output  of  words  being 
sometimes  six  thousand. 

His  style  was  free  from  mannerisms;  and  always 
the  cities  where  he  lived,  the  streets  and  people  and 
houses,  grew  into  his  pages,  and  he  fearlessly  painted 
existing  conditions.  And  a  wide  circle  caught  the 

320 


i         EDWARD  CLARENCE  STEDMAN 


A   GROUP   OF   EASTERN   AUTHORS 

spirit  of  his  intellectual  and  artistic  novels,  and  as  he 
owned,  "  they  became  in  his  hands  a  marketable  com- 
modity."  To  characterise  his  numerous  works 
would  be  entirely  beyond  our  scope.  His  first,  u  Mr. 
Isaacs,"  is  full  of  Oriental  colouring.  "  The  Cigar- 
Maker's  Romance  "  is,  perhaps,  most  perfect  in  form; 
while  the  "  Saracinesca  Trilogy,"  with  the  scenes  laid 
in  modern  Rome,  has  hosts  of  readers. 

Edward  Everett  Hale  (1822-1909),  for  his  opti- 
mistic devotion  to  his  native  city,  has  been  called  "  A 
Bostonian  of  Bostonians."  For  more  than  fifty 
years,  he  was  a  prominent  Unitarian  minister,  and 
he  also  showed  wonderful  versatility  as  a  lecturer, 
writer  of  essays,  history  and  biography,  and  a  mas- 
ter-craftsman of  short  stories.  In  these,  like  De 
Foe,  he  made  fictitious  subjects  appear  real. 

The  best  illustration  of  his  art  is  "  The  Man  With- 
out a  Country."  In  this,  an  officer  who  is  being  tried 
for  treasonable  conduct  curses  his  native  land;  on 
this  account,  he  is  condemned  to  spend  his  life  for- 
ever at  sea,  and  never  in  any  way  to  hear  the  United 
States  mentioned,  or  to  read  a  word  concerning  it. 
This  story,  with  its  grave  moral,  was  quoted  the  world 
over  as  true;  and  appearing  as  it  did  in  the  time  of  the 
Civil  War,  it  did  much  to  quicken  the  patriotism  of 
both  soldiers  and  sailors. 

And  Edward  Everett  Hale  identified  himself  with 
many  philanthropic  projects.  His  Waldensian  story, 
"  In  His  Name,"  was  widely  read;  while  his  u  Ten 

321 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Times  One  is  Ten,"  proposing  the  formation  of  circles 
of  "  King's  Sons  "  and  "  Daughters  "  has  carried  im- 
mense force  everywhere,  for  its  motto  is :  — "  Look 
up  and  not  down;  Look  forward  and  not  back;  Look 
out  and  not  in;  and  lend  a  hand." 

Francis  Richard  Stockton  (1834-1902),  another 
writer  of  brief  stories,  resembles  Edward  Everett 
Hale,  in  that  he,  too,  made  fiction  seem  reality,  and 
yet  in  his  whimsical  romances,  he  stands  quite  alone. 
His  fantastic  characters,  set  in  the  oddest  kind  of 
plots,  encounter  ridiculous  and  bewildering  experi- 
ences; and  all  are  treated  with  such  seriousness  and 
quiet  dignity  that  as  we  breathlessly  watch  absurd  peo- 
ple do  absurd  things,  for  the  moment  everything  be- 
comes true.  Among  Stockton's  creations  are  "  The 
Casting  Away  of  Mrs.  Leeks  and  Mrs.  Aleshine," 
"  The  Hundredth  Man,"  and  "  The  Lady  or  the 
Tiger?" 

Young  people  are  not  usually  fascinated  with  the 
problems  which  Walt  Whitman,  with  keen  directness, 
presents  in  his  writings;  but  his  name  is  so  noteworthy 
among  our  men  of  letters  that  we  obey  the  summons 
to  glance  at  his  life  and  work  as  we  pass  along.  The 
literary  world  is  always  trying  to  decide  which  of  the 
problematic  authors  —  Emerson,  Hawthorne,  Poe, 
or  Whitman  —  ranks  highest  —  and  Whitman  (1819- 
1892),  makes  the  greatest  challenge  of  them  all! 
Some  regard  him  a  second  Homer,  and  in  their  Whit- 
mania  are  absorbed  in  Whitmanesque  literature ;  while 

322 


A   GROUP    OF   EASTERN    AUTHORS 

others  are  sure  that  he  is  but  an  impostor,  forcing  his 
"  Whitmanesque  stuff  "  upon  our  bookshelves. 

This  isolated  and  eccentric  genius  was  a  native  of 
West  Hills,  in  "  fish-shaped  "  Long  Island,  and  after 
his  family  moved  to  Brooklyn,  he  often  returned  to  his 
early  home  to  wander  with  the  fishermen  or  clam- 
diggers,  or  hay-cutters,  or  herdsmen;  and  one  of  his 
chief  pleasures  was  to  declaim  Shakespeare  or  Homer 
to  the  sea-gulls  or  the  surf  —  for  it  goes  without  say- 
ing that  he  was  a  literary  youth  and  read  everything. 
After  gaining  his  education  in  the  Brooklyn  pub- 
lic schools,  he  was  a  teacher  and  editor  in  dif- 
ferent towns  in  the  island;  and  in  Brooklyn  he 
was  a  painter  and  carpenter,  and  a  writer  of  edito- 
rials. 

With  a  passion  for  crowds,  inspiration  came  to  him 
as  he  watched  the  busy  tide,  surging  up  and  down  the 
city  streets,  and  he  often  haunted  ferry-boats,  omni- 
buses, and  theatres,  and  his  companions  were  drivers, 
pilots,  and  deck-hands.  Presently,  a  strong  desire 
was  in  him  —  no  less  than  to  put  on  record  his  own 
distinctive  personality,  and  it  should  be  unlike  that  of 
any  other  American  that  ever  wrote.  He  changed 
his  name  Walter  to  "  Walt  " ;  assumed  an  unconven- 
tional garb;  wore  a  rough  beard;  stuck  his  hat  on  one 
side  of  his  head;  and  said  what  he  chose.  Naturally 
such  audacity  did  not  pass  unheeded. 

He  began  to  write  his  "  Leaves  of  Grass,"  which 
was  intended  to  be  an  appeal  to  the  masses,  but  he 

323 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

little  realised  that  its  profundity  was  far  too  great  for 
his  purpose. 

Whitman,  like  Whittier  and  Thoreau,  never  went 
abroad  but  travelled  widely  in  the  United  States  and 
Canada  —  very  often  as  a  pedestrian.  Once  he 
halted  in  New  Orleans  for  a  time  to  do  editorial 
work.  For  nearly  three  years  during  the  Civil  War, 
he  was  a  volunteer  hospital  nurse,  and  he  lived  on  the 
coarsest  fare  that  he  might  give  the  boys  luxuries;  and 
thousands  of  those  for  whom  he  cared  testified  to  his 
tender  ministrations.  The  war  stirred  his  inmost 
soul,  and  in  his  "  Drum-Taps  "  is  a  more  human  touch 
than  in  any  other  of  his  poems. 

His  dirge  written  on  the  death  of  Lincoln  is  a  per- 
fect dirge ;  and  Donald  G.  Mitchell,  after  reading  it, 
said:  — 

"  If  he  gathers  coarse  weeds  into  his  '  Leaves  of  Grass,' 
we  forget  and  forgive  when  he  doffs  his  cap  in  reverent  and 
courtly  fashion  to  *  My  Captain.'  " 

Defiant  of  all  laws  of  conventional  life  he  freed 
himself  from  literary  trammels,  and  felt  himself  a 
reformer,  preaching  democracy  and  comradeship. 
He  is  better  known  as  a  poet  than  as  a  prose-writer, 
and  with  colossal  self-confidence  announced:  "  I  cele- 
brate myself  and  sing  myself."  The  title  "  Leaves 
of  Grass  "  was  given  to  his  collected  poems  which  as 
he  said  were  made  of  "  words  simple  as  grass."  In 

324 


A  GROUP  OF  EASTERN   AUTHORS 

these  idealistic  gems  scattered  here  and  there,  he 
discloses  his  intense  fondness  for  Nature. 

In  sympathy  with  every  class  but  the  aristocratic, 
he  knew  little  of  society.  He  had,  however,  devoted 
literary  friends  to  whom  he  was  "  The  good  grey 
poet "  -  among  them,  Bryant,  Burroughs,  and  Sted- 
man ;  and  the  last  honoured  him  with  a  whole  chapter 
in  his  "  American  Poets  "  and  thus  eulogises  him:  — 

"  Blythe  prodigal,  the  rhythm  free  and  strong 
Of  thy  brave  voice  forecasts  our  poet's  song." 

England  sees  in  Whitman  our  future  poet,  and  this 
is  because  of  the  warm  appreciation  of  Swinburne  and 
Tennyson  and  Symonds. 

The  venerable  poet  spent  his  last  days  in  Camden, 
New  Jersey,  in  a  dingy  little  house,  whose  library 
held  "  the  storage  collection  of  his  life."  In  the 
town,  he  was  called  "  Socrates,"  or  as  one  has  dubbed 
him,  "  Mr.  Socrates."  Everybody  knew  him  —  and 
expected  his  kind  word  —  for,  after  all,  he  possessed 
a  curious  kind  of  sociability.  Burroughs  says :  — 

"  He  is  like  a  mountain ;  as  you  get  away  from  him  in 
point  of  time  and  perspective,  the  features  soften  down  and 
you  get  the  true  beauty." 

Richard  Henry  Stoddard  (1825-1893),  was  a  poor 
Massachusetts  boy,  who  was  taken  to  New  York  as  a 
child,  and  there  found  his  education  in  the  public 

325 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

schools.  Next  he  worked  in  a  foundry  and  studied 
poetry  at  night,  for  he  had  a  rich  fancy,  with  a  fas- 
cinating love  of  the  beautiful.  He  studied  so  dili- 
gently in  classical  and  modern  poetry  that  he  became 
an  excellent  critic;  and  somewhere  he  tells  how  he 
wrought  his  own  songs  — 

"  Like  the  blowing  of  the  wind 
Or  the  flowing  of  the  stream 
In  the  music  of  my  mind." 

Through  Hawthorne's  favour,  he  obtained  a  posi- 
tion in  the  New  York  custom-house,  and  served  later 
in  the  dock  department  and  public  library;  and  pres- 
ently he  was  able  to  abandon  official  duties  and  to  de- 
vote himself  to  his  loved  literature.  For  the  rest  of 
his  life,  he  was  known  as  journalist,  and  editor  — 
and  what  he  preferred  most  —  poet.  His  prose 
works  consist  largely  of  criticism  and  biography, 
but  from  first  to  last  he  was  a  poet,  and  in  his 
style,  influenced  by  Wordsworth,  Shelley,  and 
Keats. 

His  "  Songs  of  Summer  "  was  published  in  1856. 
Two  stanzas  are  quoted :  — 

"  The  sky  is  a  drinking-cup, 

That  was  overturned  of  old, 
And  it  pours  in  the  eyes  of  men 
Its  wine  of  airy  gold. 

326 


A  GROUP   OF   EASTERN   AUTHORS 

We  drink  that  wine  all  day, 
Till  the  last  drop  is  drained  up, 

And  are  lighted  off  to  bed 
By  the  jewels  in  the  cup !  " 

His  "  Book  of  the  East  "  is  tinged  with  the  brightness 
of  the  Orient. 

Stoddard  is  perhaps  not  popular,  but  admired  by 
critical  lovers  of  poetry,  because  his  instincts  arc  sure. 
He  was  imbued  alike  with  the  wisdom  and  the 
strength  of  the  self-educated  man;  but  he  fostered 
the  literary  spirit  of  his  day  in  New  York,  working 
in  friendship  with  other  authors,  specially  with  Tay- 
lor and  Stedman,  and  for  himself  he  offers  this 
apology :  — 

"  These  songs  of  mine,  the  best  that  I  have  sung, 
Are  not  my  best,  for  caged  within  the  lines 
Are  thousand  better,  if  they  would  but  sing  I " 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  (1833-1908),  came 
from  Hartford  to  New  York,  and  here  entered  into 
journalistic  work.  During  the  war,  he  served  as 
newspaper  correspondent.  His  most  popular  poems 
which  belong  to  his  earlier  years  are  war  ballads  and 
lyrics.  His  others  manifest  artistic  and  humourous 
rather  than  creative  gifts.  Among  them  are  the  elo. 
quent  tribute  to  Hawthorne,  already  quoted,  and 
many  in  a  vein  more  light,  such  as  "  Toujours 
Amours  "  and  "  Pan  in  Wall  Street."  On  the  last 

327 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

subject  Mr.  Stedman  could  write  feelingly  since  for 
thirty-six  years  he  was  the  "  Banker-Poet."  His  re- 
nown rests  on  the  magnificent  books  of  clear  and  in- 
cisive criticism  which  he  has  left,  and  from  which  we 
have  several  times  made  extracts.  These  are  in- 
cluded in  his  invaluable  volumes:  "  Victorian  Poets," 
"  Poets  of  America,"  "  A  Victorian  Anthology," 
and  "  AJI  American  Anthology." 

The  u  Banker- Poet "  was  a  man  of  the  world,  de- 
lighting in  the  acquaintance  of  men  in  different  walks 
in  life,  and  a  leading  factor  in  literary  centres,  ever 
ready  to  assist  younger  men  of  letters.  He  will  be 
remembered  long  as  a  cordial  and  optimistic  scholar 
with  wide  knowledge  of  literature. 

High  among  the  authors  that  succeeded  the  old 
New  England  group  must  be  ranked  Thomas  Bailey 
Aldrich  (1836-1907).  "The  Bad  Boy"  of  Ports- 
mouth, New  Hampshire,  he  spent  his  summers  here, 
and  his  winters  in  New  Orleans.  As  a  youth,  he  was 
hurried  into  his  uncle's  office  in  New  York,  for  he 
had  betrayed  an  instinct  for  rhyming  and  it  was 
feared  that  he  might  become  a  poet.  Notwithstand- 
ing this  precaution,  there  appeared  before  he  was 
twenty  a  slender  volume  of  poems.  This  was  fol- 
lowed by  his  dainty  "  Babie  Bell,"  which,  copied  far 
and  wide,  would  alone  have  made  its  author  known. 

And  now  came  the  conflict  between  counting-house 
and  bookish  workshop,  and  the  latter  won,  and  Al- 
drich commenced  editorial  and  journalistic  writing  in 

328 


A  GROUP   OF   EASTERN   AUTHORS 

New  York,  and  also  became  a  member  of  the  group 
of  notable  Metropolitan  poets,  including  Stoddard, 
Stedman,  and  Taylor.  In  1870,  he  removed  to  Bos- 
ton, and  there  his  elegant  Mount  Vernon  Street  home 
was  distinguished  for  the  generous  hospitality  of  its 
host. 

For  ten  years,  he  was  the  clever,  mirthful,  and 
methodical  editor  of  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly."  He 
was  a  perfect  workman,  embroidering  his  themes  to 
the  minutest  detail.  We  estimate  his  tales  and  poems 
as  we  would  a  miniature  of  artistic  finish.  One  of 
his  characteristics  was  to  hold  a  story  till  it  was  com- 
pleted to  his  full  satisfaction.  George  Parsons 
Lathrop,  in  the  following  quotation  from  Aldrich,  il- 
lustrates this  point:  "I've  got  a  story  under  way 
that  promises  well.  But  just  as  my  people  were  in 
the  midst  of  a  flourishing  conversation,  they  stopped. 
No  one  of  them  would  say  a  thing,  and  there  they  sit, 
while  I've  been  kept  waiting  a  couple  of  weeks  for 
the  next  speech."  Indeed,  Aldrich  always  wrote 
when  the  mood  was  on  him  rather  than  in  careless 
haste. 

His  "  Story  of  a  Bad  Boy,"  told  in  romantic  vein, 
admits  us  to  the  secrets  of  his  own  youthful  escapades, 
and  it  is  now  not  only  a  juvenile  classic,  but  invests 
the  old  Portsmouth  house  with  historic  charm.  In- 
deed, Portsmouth  days  and  Portsmouth  ways  enter 
into  some  of  his  other  prose  works.  His  reminis- 
cences of  trips  abroad  are  embodied  in  his  graphic 

329 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and   amusing   book,    "  Travels    from    Ponkapog   to 
Pesth."     Among  the  shorter  tales  are   "  Marjorie 
Daw  "  and  "  Two  Bites  at  a  Cherry." 
Aldrich  describes  a  poet  as  one  who 

"  deftly  weaves 

A  tissue  out  of  autumn  leaves, 
With  here  a  thistle,  there  a  rose, 
With  art  and  patience  thus  is  made 
The  poet's  perfect  cloth  of  gold." 

and  in  this  "  perfect  cloth  of  gold "  his  verse  is 
woven.  Here  is  a  description  from  "  Friar  Jerome's 
Beautiful  Book" — the  volume  that  "was  not  writ 
in  vain  " —  and  it  is  a  rare  picture  of  an  illuminated 
page:  — 

"  Here  and  there  from  out  of  the  woods 
A  brilliant  tropic  bird  took  flight; 
And  through  the  margins  many  a  vine 
Went  wandering  — -  roses,  red  and  white, 
Tulip,  windflower,  and  columbine." 

Aldrich  was  also  a  maker  of  sonnets  and  of  delicate 
quatrains  —  those  "  Four  line  epics  one  might  hide 
in  the  hearts  of  roses." 

Sometimes  he  is  called  "  The  Poet  of  Ponkapog," 
because  many  of  his  poems  hailed  from  this  country 
home  not  far  from  Boston;  again  some  would  dub 
him  "The  American  Herrick";  and  his  flawless 

330 


Copyright,  Brown  B.os.,  N.  Y. 

F.    MARION   CRAWFORD 


A   GROUP   OF   EASTERN   AUTHORS 

lyrics  possess  the  Herrick  gem-like  polish,  but  not  the 
soul  that  shines  through  those  of  the  English  bard  — 
yet  rarely  are  the  two  combined. 

Everything  from  Aldrich's  pen  was  eagerly 
awaited;  so  we  may  think  him  one  of  the  few  who 
wrote  too  little,  for  seven  or  eight  volumes  comprise 
his  works,  and  they  are  commended  as  especially  de- 
sirable for  young  people. 

And  there  are  others  —  and  they  are  legion  — 
whom  we  might  add:  Donald  G.  Mitchell,  our  be- 
loved "  Ik  Marvel,"  who  bequeathed  us  his  "  Dream 
Life  "  and  "  Reveries  of  a  Bachelor  ";  Richard  Grant 
White,  the  noted  philologist  and  Shakesperean  critic; 
Thomas  Wentworth  Higginson,  anti-slavery  agitator 
and  author;  Sidney  Porter,  whose  nom  de  plume 
was  "O  Henry,"  was  a  clever  short-story  writer; 
Henry  Cuyler  Bunner,  many  years  the  dignified  and 
humourous  editor  of  uPuck,n  whose  short  stories 
have  had  wide  distribution;  and  Richard  Watson 
Gilder,  the  editor  and  "poet  of  the  soul." 

And  literature  like  politics  could  not  have  existed 
without  the  newspaper  of  which  Thomas  Jefferson 
once  said:  "  I  would  rather  live  in  a  country  with 
newspapers  and  without  a  government  than  in  one 
with  a  government  without  newspapers."  So  just  a 
word  in  praise  of  Horace  Greeley,  who  was  potent  in 
the  thought  of  his  time,  and  who  founded  "  The  New 
York  Tribune." 

To-day  publishers  are  seeking  new  forms  of  in- 
33i 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

vention,  for  there  is  no  end  of  curiosity  shown  by  the 
audiences  that  wait  expectant  on  their  work.  And 
fashions  change ;  yesterday  automobile  romances  held 
attention  —  to-day,  "  High  Times  in  an  Aeroplane  " ; 
while  psychology,  sociology,  economics,  romanticism, 
classicism,  and  realism,  are  all  compelling  themes  in 
poetry  and  prose;  and  the  poet  finds  his  inspiration 
even  in  the  city  streets  where  flowers  bloom  in  florists' 
windows,  on  the  market-stall,  and  in  crevices. 

Strong  Nature  friendships  are  being  established. 
We  may  ramble  in  "  Fresh  Fields,"  with  our  essay- 
naturalist;  try  "  Fisherman's  Luck "  on  "Little 
Rivers  " ;  learn  the  characteristics  of  wild  animals 
and  birds  and  roadside  flowers;  and  with  "Sharp 
Eyes  "  pry  into  Nature's  tiniest  secrets.  And  as  for 
science,  what  discoveries  has  its  literature  proclaimed; 
and  America  in  the  short  story  as  constructed  by  Irv- 
ing, Hawthorne,  Poe,  and  Bret  Harte,  has  made  one 
of  her  noblest  contributions  to  literature,  and  never 
was  our  land  better  equipped  with  story-tellers  than 
to-day. 

The  widest  field,  however,  is  monopolised  by  the 
novelist.  Crawford,  in  his  day,  called  the  novel"  a 
pocket  theatre,"  and  the  novelist,  "  a  public  amuser  "; 
but  now  the  best  novel  may  be  either  psychological, 
realistic,  or  problematic,  and  demand  the  serious  at- 
tention of  the  most  serious  reader.  Mr.  Howells,  the 
alert  novelist,  essayist,  and  editor,  and  dean  of  our 
literary  guild,  who  has  been  true  to  his  traditions 

332 


A  GROUP   OF   EASTERN  AUTHORS 

says,  in  comparing  the  past  with  the  present,  that 
there  has  been  no  hour  of  his  literary  past  when  he 
has  had  the  least  fear  for  the  literary  future,  and  he 
adds :  — 

"  All  of  human  life  has  turned  more  and  more  to  the 
light  of  democracy,  the  light  of  equality,  if  you  please. 
Literature,  which  was  once  of  the  cloister  and  the  school, 
has  become  more  and  more  of  the  forum  and  incidentally 
of  the  market-place.  But  it  is  actuated  now  by  as  high 
and  noble  motives  as  ever  it  was  in  the  history  of  the  world, 
and  I  think  that  in  turning  from  the  vain  endeavour  of 
creating  beauty  and  devoting  itself  to  the  effort  of  ascer- 
taining life,  it  is  actuated  by  a  clearer  motive  than  be- 
fore. .  .  . 

"  To  the  backward  glance,  the  light  of  the  past  seems  one 
great  glow,  but  it  is  in  fact  a  group  of  stellar  fires.  Per- 
haps it  is  as  some  incandescent  mass  that  the  future  will 
behold  this  present  when  it  has  become  the  past." 


NOCTURNE 

"  Up  to  her  chamber  window 
A  slight  wire  trellis  goes, 
And  up  this  Romeo's  ladder 
Clambers  a  bold  white  rose. 

I  lounge  in  the  ilex  shadows, 
I  see  the  lady  lean, 
Unclasping  her  silken  girdle, 
The  curtain's  folds  between. 
333 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

She  smiles  on  her  white-rose  lover, 
She  reaches  out  her  hand 
And  helps  him  in  at  the  window  — 
I  see  it  where  I  stand ! 

To  her  scarlet  lip  she  holds  him, 
And  kisses  him  many  a  time  — 
Ah,  me !  it  was  he  that  won  her, 
Because  he  dared  to  climb ! " 

—  Aldrich. 


334 


XXXI 

WOMAN   IN  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 
PART    FIRST 

IN  order  to  give  our  story  a  gentle  ending,  we  just 
glance  at  the  part  played  by  woman  in  American  liter- 
ature. For  the  feeble  twitterings  of  the  songstress 
were  very  early  heard  —  even  from  the  colonial  day 
when  Anne  Bradstreet  lightened  the  harshness  of 
pioneer  life  by  the  consolation  of  poetry.  These 
"  first  breathings "  were  a  combination  of  high 
thought,  fantastic  conceit,  and  sentimentality,  graced 
by  poetic  touch. 

Tender-hearted  Lydia  Huntley  Sigourney  belonged 
to  the  "  Knickerbocker  Group  " ;  and  her  one  aim  in 
her  fifty-six  volumes  of  verse  and  prose  was  to  do 
good.  It  is  difficult  now  to  realise  how  much  her  sol- 
emn lines  were  quoted  in  her  own  day.  Her  mem- 
orial tablet  in  Christ  Church,  Hartford,  bears  Whit- 
tier's  words :  — 

"  She  sang  alone  ere  womanhood  had  known 

The  gift  of  song  which  fills  the  air  to-day; 
Tender  and  sweet,  a  music  all  her  own 
May  fitly  linger  where  she  knelt  to  pray." 

Among  prose-writers,  were  sentimental  and  con- 
335 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

ventional  novelists,  whose  stately,  slow-moving  char- 
acters acted  conventional  parts.  "  Charlotte  Tem- 
ple," for  example,  written  by  the  playwright  and 
novelist,  Mrs.  Rowson,  was  stiff  and  absurd  —  the 
heroine  always  "  bedewed  with  tears."  Then  there 
was  "  The  Wide,  Wide  World,"  whose  lachrymose 
heroine  literally  absorbed  the  wide,  wide  world. 
"  The  Lamplighter"  was  more  normal  in  its  pious 
setting.  But  these  and  other  old  tales,  with  chapters 
capped  with  morals,  won  phenomenal  success  when 
they  were  issued,  while  now-a-days  we  count  them  as 
bits  of  departed  grandeur  over  which  Holmes  chants 
the  requiem :  — 

"  Where,  O  where,  are  life's  lilies  and  roses, 

Nursed  in  the  golden  dawn's  smile? 
Dead  as  the  bulrushes  round  little  Moses, 
On  the  old  banks  of  the  Nile. 

Where  are  the  Marys  and  Anns  and  Elizas 

Living  and  lovely  of  yore! 
Look  in  the  columns  of  old  Advertisers, 

Married  and  dead  by  the  score." 

In  this  era  of  stilted  ideals  and  flowery  exaggera- 
tion, one  very  remarkable  novel,  "  St.  Elmo,"  pene- 
trated every  corner  of  our  land  as  hundreds  of  mate- 
rial monuments  give  evidence  of  the  enthusiasm  which 
it  aroused;  for  there  were  "  St.  Elmo  "  coaches  and 
steamboats  and  hotels  and  towns!  The  novel  was 

336 


WOMAN    IN    AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

written  by  Augusta  Jane  Evans,  a  Southern  lady, 
whose  "  Beulah  "  had  already  won  success. 

In  "  St.  Elmo,"  Miss  Evans  catches  her  heroine, 
Edna  Earl,  a  girl  of  twelve,  a  stern  little  moralist, 
standing  at  dawn,  outlined  against  Lookout  Moun- 
tain ;  a  duel  and  a  wreck  quickly  follow  —  and  in 
time  Edna  Earl  becomes  another  Jane  Eyre,  and 
St.  Elmo  Murray,  another  Rochester.  And  Arthur 
Bartlett  Maurice,  the  critic,  claims  that  beneath  the 
pompous  phraseology,  there  lurks  a  real  story,  in- 
spired by  such  lofty  ideals  and  passionate  sincerity, 
that,  though  written  over  half  a  century  ago,  the 
book  remains  an  early  chapter  in  the  code  of  life  — 
and  "  St.  Elmo  "  like  "  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin  "  stands 
apart. 

And  what  reading  was  offered  boys  and  girls  of 
the  earlier  times?  In  colonial  days,  they  were 
probably  fascinated  with  the  prodigies  of  Mather's 
"  Magnalia."  Then  "Robinson  Crusoe,"  "  Pil- 
grim's Progress,"  "Gulliver's  Travels,"  "The 
Arabian  Nights,"  and  the  novels  of  Scott  and  Cooper 
—  alike  held  their  fancy;  while  Jacob  Abbott's  "  His- 
tories "  and  "  Rollo  Books "  were  everywhere 
sought,  for  they  conveyed  wisdom  and  moral  instruc- 
tion in  readable  form. 

And  in  turning  from  the  statuesque  women-writers 
of  a  by-gone  age  to  the  flesh-and-blood  interpreters 
of  our  own,  we  shall  find  a  new  world  opening  out 
before  the  children  as  before  those  of  larger  growth. 

337 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

We  recall  a  few  names  of  women  who  have  made 
healthful  impress  upon  literature  —  among  them, 
Louisa  M.  Alcott,  Mary  Mapes  Dodge,  Helen  Hunt 
Jackson,  Celia  Thaxter,  and  Sarah  Orne  Jewett. 

To  make  a  brief  sketch  of  Louisa  M.  Alcott 
(1832-1888),  we  must  in  imagination  retrace  our 
way  to  intellectual  Concord,  which  through  her  has 
given  a  contribution  to  children's  literature.  On  a 
hillside  stands  u  Old  Orchard  House,"  teeming  with 
memories  of  four  clever,  wide-awake  little  women. 
Here  it  was  that  "  Joe  scribbled,  May  wrestled  for 
fine  words;  here  Beth's  little  cottage  piano  stood, 
and  May  mothered  them  all  when  dear  Mrs.  Marsh 
was  away."  We  know  them  each  one,  and  remember 
what  an  instantaneous  welcome  all  received  when  they 
made  their  first  courtesy  to  the  public ;  and  it  was  just 
because  they  were  so  real  and  natural,  and  proclaimed 
a  gospel  of  simple  living  and  happy  work. 

These  were  their  maker's  masterpieces;  but  at  the 
mention  of  her  name,  other  wholesome  children, 
both  boys  and  girls,  come  trooping  into  our  memory. 
Jusserand  says :  "  A  tale  is  the  first  key  to  the  heart 
of  a  child," — and  what  a  magical  key  Miss  Alcott 
held!  Her  life  was  a  struggle  for  she  was  very 
young  when  it  was  discovered  that  she  —  rather  than 
her  visionary  father  —  must  be  the  family  bread- 
winner. 

At  eight,  she  wrote  her  first  poem;  it  was  dedi- 
cated "  To  a  Robin,"  and  her  mother  encouraged 

338 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

her  to  keep  on,  assuring  her  that  she  might  in  time 
become  a  second  Shakespeare.  Fired  with  this 
modest  ambition,  the  child  continued  to  write  on  such 
subjects  as  dead  butterflies  and  lost  kittens,  even  until 
the  story  mania  set  in;  and  in  order  to  gain  subsist- 
ence, she  also  did  sewing  and  went  out  to  service,  and 
presently  her  newspaper  articles  began  to  be  ac- 
cepted; and  the  little  desk  now  stands  in  the  parlour 
where  Louisa  turned  her  observation  into  manuscript, 
sometimes  working  all  night  by  the  light  of  a  single 
tallow-dip. 

And  while  the  family  struggled  for  daily  bread, 
over  the  way  in  the  "  School  of  Philosophy,"  Dr.  Al- 
cott,  "  Socratic  Talker  of  his  Day,"  was  dispensing 
his  "  Seer's-rations "  of  mystical  wisdom.  Rose 
Hawthorne  once  said  that  "  the  only  point  at  which 
Dr.  Alcott  ever  met  the  world  was  in  his  worship  of 
apple  trees  1  " 

Emerson  was  the  truest  friend  that  Dr.  Alcott  ever 
had;  and  to  Miss  Alcott  he  was  "  The  Beloved  Mas- 
ter," who,  by  the  simple  beauty  of  his  life,  and  the 
wealth  and  uplift  of  his  works,  helped  her  to  under- 
stand herself.  She  went  to  the  war  as  a  volunteer 
nurse  and  nearly  died  of  fever.  She  spent  years  of 
discouraging  toil,  before  the  success  of  "  Little 
Women  "  gave  her  place  in  the  world  of  letters. 

She  died  in  1888,  in  the  "  Thoreau-Alcott "  home 
in  Concord,  and  is  buried  in  Sleepy  Hollow  Cemetery 
not  far  from  her  "  Beloved  Master,"  upon  whose 

339 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

grave,  at  his  burial,  she  had  laid  a  lyre  of  yellow 
jonquils. 

Mrs.  Alcott  once  announced  that  she  "  had  been 
married  twenty-nine  years  and  moved  twenty-seven 
times,"  and  several  homes  in  Concord  attest  the  truth 
of  her  remark;  but  it  is  "  Old  Orchard  House  "  that 
the  Woman's  Club  of  the  town  has  set  apart  to  be  the 
shrine  of  Louisa  M.  Alcott.  Four  rooms  are  de- 
voted to  memorials;  the  rest  is  a  vacation  home  for 
working-girls,  in  tribute  to  one  who  sacrificed  her 
life  in  the  service  of  others. 

The  story  of  our  next  authoress,  Mary  Mapes 
Dodge  (1838-1905),  presents  a  striking  contrast  to 
that  of  Louisa  M.  Alcott.  Daughter  of  Professor 
Mapes,  the  distinguished  writer  and  scientist,  she 
passed  a  happy  childhood  in  her  New  York  home. 
She  never  attended  school  but  with  her  sisters  studied 
under  tutors.  There  were  no  children's  magazines, 
but  she  feasted  on  ballads  and  Scott  and  Bunyan  and 
Shakespeare.  It  seemed  as  if  she  had  always  loved 
to  write,  and  as  a  maiden,  she  assisted  her  father  in 
preparing  learned  pamphlets. 

There  was  granted  her  a  happy  married  life  of 
a  few  short  years,  and  then  she  was  left  a  widow  with 
two  young  sons,  and  she  was  at  once  their  comrade, 
rearing  them  tenderly  and  wisely.  Feeling  that  she 
must  needs  do  something  for  their  support,  she  took 
up  literature,  writing  essays  and  stories  for  grown-up 
readers;  and  she  improvised  bed-time  tales  for  her 

340 


CELIA  L.   THAXTER  SARAH   ORNE  JEWETT 


HELEN   HUNT  JACKSON  MARY   MAPES   DODGE 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

boys  which  she  presently  determined  to  offer  to  other 
children  as  "  The  Irvington  Stories." 

About  the  time  that  these  were  published,  in  1864, 
she  became  absorbed  in  Motley's  "  Dutch  Republic," 
as  well  as  in  many  books  concerning  quaint  and 
valiant  little  Holland  and  Dutch  history.  She  com- 
menced to  weave  a  story  and  soon  "  Hans  Brinker  " 
was  published.  Every  chapter  as  she  wrote  was 
submitted  to  the  criticism  of  two  Hollanders  who 
lived  near  her,  and  the  tale  was  so  true  to  life  that 
Dutch  boys  were  sure  that  Hans  Brinker  had  skated 
on  the  canal ;  and  once  when  her  own  young  son  went 
into  a  book-store  in  Amsterdam  and  asked  for  some- 
thing to  read,  the  clerk  brought  it  forth  as  the  best 
juvenile  story  in  Holland;  and  it  was  translated  not 
only  into  Dutch  —  but  also  into  French,  German, 
Russian,  and  Italian. 

With  Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  and  Donald  G. 
Mitchell,  Mary  Mapes  Dodge  became  editor  of 
"  Hearth  and  Home."  In  this  she  proved  so  success- 
ful with  the  "  Juvenile  Department  "  that  the  editors 
of  "  The  Century  "  asked  her  to  edit  a  juvenile  maga- 
zine, and  in  1873,  "  St.  Nicholas  M  came  into  being, 
christened  by  Mrs.  Dodge.  Her  ideal  for  a  chil- 
dren's magazine  was  to  make  it  strong,  true,  and 
beautiful;  it  must  be  full  of  life  and  eager  impulse, 
and  its  cheer,  the  cheer  of  the  bird-song;  and  to  the 
fulfilling  of  this  ideal,  this  brilliant  and  attractive 
woman  devoted  the  rest  of  her  life.  Young  readers 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

felt  the  spell  of  enthusiasm  and  always  sought  her 
stories. 

Among  her  editorials,  the  witty  little  preacher, 
"  Jack  in  the  Pulpit/'  held  his  audience  spell-bound. 
Many  were  her  rhymes  and  jingles,  and  among  her 
pleasing  tales  "  Donald  and  Dorothy  "  and  "  Pluck." 

Through  personal  friendship  with  noted  authors, 
she  secured  from  them  many  contributions,  and  even 
fascinating  "  Lord  Fauntleroy "  made  his  first  bow 
to  the  public  as  a  serial  in  "  St.  Nicholas." 

For  older  people,  Mrs.  Dodge  wrote  poems  and 
prose  tales;  among  the  latter  was  "  Theophilus  and 
Others,"  and  among  the  "  Others  "  was  amusing 
"  Mrs.  Maloney  on  the  Chinese  Question." 

Mrs.  Dodge  was  constantly  sought  by  her  coterie 
of  special  friends,  and  one  evening  every  week  she 
was  the  genial  hostess  in  her  New  York  home,  over- 
looking Central  Park.  And  Onteora  cast  its  spell 
over  her  as  over  many  professional  men  and  women, 
and  it  was  here  in  her  rustic  home  that  she  died;  and 
this  "  lover  of  little  ones  up  to  the  end  "  was  mourned 
by  children  to  whom  she  has  left  a  memorial  of  far- 
reaching  influence,  even  the  juvenile  classic  which 
she  sent  forth  touched  with  the  finest  thought  and 
fancy  of  her  day;  and  Richard  Watson  Gilder  wrote: 

"Many  the  laurels  her  bright  spirit  won; 

Now  that  through  tears  we  read  '  The  End/ 
The  brightest  leaf  of  all  —  now  all  is  done  — 
Is  this:  '  She  was  the  children's  friend.'  " 
342 


XXXII 

WOMAN   IN  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 
PART  SECOND 

IN  1880,  there  appeared  in  "  St.  Nicholas,"  a  story 
headed  "  The  Naughtiest  Day  of  My  Life."  This 
was  a  confession  written  by  Helen  Fiske  Hunt  Jack- 
son (1831-1884),  describing  an  escapade  as  a  child 
when  with  another  little  girl  she  ran  away  from  her 
home  in  Amherst,  Massachusetts,  to  Hadley,  four 
miles  distant.  The  whole  village  of  Amherst,  even 
to  college  professors,  joined  in  the  search,  and  late 
at  night  the  children  were  brought  back;  and  in 
merry,  impulsive  mood,  Helen  walked  in  exclaim- 
ing :  "  Oh,  mother,  I've  had  a  perfectly  splendid 
time !  "  This  is  a  most  characteristic  anecdote  of 
the  childhood  of  brilliant,  impetuous  Helen  Fiske, 
daughter  of  Professor  Fiske  of  Amherst  College. 

She  was  married  at  twenty-one  to  Captain  Hunt 
of  the  army,  and  with  her  social  and  winning  nature, 
enjoyed  the  wandering  life  of  a  military  household; 
later  her  husband,  now  Major  Hunt,  was  killed  in 
Brooklyn,  while  experimenting  with  an  invention  of 
his  own  for  firing  projectiles  under  water.  Two 

343 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

years  more,  and  her  handsome,  precocious  son  Ben- 
nie  died  of  diphtheria,  and  before  he  passed  away, 
he  made  his  mother  promise  not  to  take  her  life. 
Stunned  by  the  blows  that  had  followed  in  swift  suc- 
cession, Mrs.  Hunt  for  a  time  shut  herself  away  from 
the  world,  and  finally  her  solace  came  in  the  form  of 
literature. 

In  her  home  in  Newport,  Rhode  Island,  she 
studied  rhetoric  and  literary  methods  and  gradually 
acquired  careful  construction.  After  years,  her 
poems  began  to  be  admired.  These  are  on  Nature, 
home-life,  and  abstract  themes.  They  are  medita- 
tive rather  than  joycus,  and  in  their  glow  and  in- 
tensity rank  very  high.  Emerson  considered  them 
the  best  of  those  written  by  American  women,  and 
used  to  carry  them  in  his  pocket  to  read  to  his 
friends. 

How  expressive  of  her  colour-sense  and  delicate 
ear  for  melody  are  her  lines :  - 

"  Chestnuts,  clicking  one  by  one, 
Escape  from  satin  burrs;  her  fringes  done, 
The  gentian  spreads  them  out  in  sunny  days; 

The  summer  charily  her  reds  doth  lay 
Like  jewels  in  her  costliest  array; 
October,  scornful,  burns  them  on  a  bier.'* 

And  perhaps  the  sorrow  that  clouded  her  own  life 
found  expression  in  "  The  Spinner/*  from  which  we 
take  extract :  — 

344 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

"  Like  a  blind  spinner  in  the  sun, 

I  tread  my  days; 
I  know  that  all  the  thread  will  run 

Appointed  ways; 

I  know  each  day  will  bring  its  task 
And  being  blind,  no  more  I  ask. 


But  listen,  listen,  day  by  day, 

To  hear  their  tread 
Who  bear  the  finished  web  away, 

And  cut  the  thread, 
And  bring  God's  message  in  the  sun, 
'  Thou,  poor,  blind  spinner,  work  is  done.'  " 

Of  restless  and  adventurous  temperament,  Mrs. 
Hunt  travelled  much  on  the  Continent.  In  her 
"  Bits  of  Travel,"  she  immortalised  a  German  land- 
lady; and  while  the  latter  did  not  enjoy  having  her 
love-story  given  to  the  world,  she  called  the  writer 
who  had  sojourned  with  her  "  the  kindest  lady  in 
the  world." 

"  Bits  of  Talk  "  followed  "  Bits  of  Travel,"  and 
these  with  other  things  signed  with  the  pen-name 
"  H.  H."  had  very  many  readers,  doubtless  because 
the  author's  personality  was  so  wrought  into  every 
word. 

44  H.  H."  had  early  asserted  that  she  would  never 
be  a  woman  with  "  a  hobby  ";  but  after  listening  to 
lectures  in  Boston  and  New  York  on  the  wrongs  of 
the  Indians,  her  soul  was  stirred  to  its  depths  and 

345 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

from  this  time  she  consecrated  her  life  to  a  single 
purpose  — •  she  would  emancipate  the  Indian  —  as 
Harriet  Beecher  Stowe  had  emancipated  the  negro. 
She  travelled  over  the  West,  carrying  cheer  to  them 
in  their  adobe  villages  as  she  listened  to  their  tales 
and  pledged  herself  to  do  what  she  could,  and  they 
many  times  saluted  her  as  "  Queen." 

To  make  her  facts  accurate,  she  spent  three  months 
working  in  the  Astor  Library,  New  York,  and  then 
published  her  "  Century  of  Dishonour."  At  her 
own  expense,  she  sent  a  copy  to  every  member  of 
Congress.  The  work  exhausted  her,  she  went  to 
Norway  for  refreshment;  and  on  her  return  received 
an  appointment  from  the  President  to  investigate  the 
needs  of  the  Indian.  Again  she  searched  into  her 
problem  and  her  report  was  clear  and  vigorous. 

She  was  interested,  also,  in  early  Spanish  Missions, 
and  these  were  told  of  in  magazine  articles.  In 
1884,  "  Ramona,"  her  best  novel,  came  out.  It  is 
a  powerful  work,  its  moral  revealing  her  interest  in 
the  red  man,  and  it  has  now,  in  1913,  reached  its 
ninety-third  printing! 

After  years  of  strenuous  labour,  her  health  was 
failing,  and  she  removed  to  the  West.  She  married 
a  Mr.  Jackson,  a  Quaker,  and  a  banker  of  Colorado 
Springs,  and  here  she  made  a  beautiful  home  and  ten 
years  of  life  remained.  Here  she  cherished  her 
human  friendships,  and  her  love  for  flowers  which 
she  gathered  by  the  carriageful  from  "  her  garden  " 

346 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

—  as   she   fondly   called   a   peak  of   the   Cheyenne 
Mountains. 

Her  vigour  never  returned  and  her  last  moments 
were  full  of  suffering.  Shortly  before  she  died,  she 
said:  "  My  4  Century  of  Dishonour  '  and  *  Ramona  ' 
are  the  only  things  I  have  done  of  which  I  am  glad 
now;  they  will  leaf  out  and  bear  fruit  —  the  rest  is 
of  no  moment."  She  is  buried  four  miles  from 
Colorado  Springs,  near  the  summit  of  Mount  Jack- 
son which  was  named  in  her  honour.  She  had 
begged  that  her  grave  be  unadorned  "  with  costly 
shrub  or  tree  or  flower  ";  it  is  simply  a  mound  over 
which  u  The  sweet  grass  its  last  year's  tangles  keeps." 
Her  novels,  sketches,  and  essays  will  live,  but  longer 
than  any  of  them  will  be  read  her  poems  so  full  of 
gleam  and  gentleness. 

Our  next  writer  is  Celia  Laighton  Thaxter  (1836- 
1894),  and  to  find  her  literary  world,  we  must  in 
fancy  transport  ourselves  to  the  Isles  of  Shoals,  off 
the  coast  of  Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire,  a  cluster 
of  eight  rocky  elevations  with  "  frantic  crags,"  which, 
according  to  Hawthorne,  u  are  tossed  together  lying 
in  all  directions."  Celia  Laighton's  birthplace  was 
Portsmouth;  but  when  she  was  five  years  old,  her 
father,  owing  to  some  political  disaffection,  withdrew 
for  ever  from  the  mainland,  bringing  his  wife  and 
children  to  these  desolate  islands,  ten  miles  out  in  the 
Atlantic,  and  here  he  became  keeper  of  the  White 
Island  light. 

347 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

% 

Celia  has  described  the  first  landing  on  the  lonely 
rock,  in  the  autumn  sunset  —  the  light-house  like 
a  tall  black-capped  giant  gazing  down  upon  them  — 
while  a  few  goats  feeding  at  its  base  looked  at  them 
as  they  entered  the  little  thick-walled  stone  cottage, 
from  whose  deep-seated  windows  she  later  made 
many  pen-pictures. 

Shells  and  rocks  and  waves  were  playmates  of  this 
little  maiden  and  her  brothers,  Oscar  and  Cedric. 
They  watched  the  sea-fowl  soaring  aloft  or  gliding 
over  the  water;  vessels  scudding  over  the  dark  blue 
sea;  stealthy  islanders  paddling  along  the  ledges, 
or  stretched  out  on  the  wet  sand  looking  for  wild- 
fowl. They  watched,  also,  the  lighting  of  the  lamp 
and  as  it  sent  afar  its  rays,  they  wondered  how  many 
hearts  it  nightly  gladdened;  and  birds  and  flowers 
were  very  companionable,  and  "  Peggy's  Garden  " 
in  its  brilliant  glow  became  famous. 

The  child  rowed  and  made  rag-carpets  and  tended 
the  sick;  and  as  she  older  grew,  more  and  more  her 
heart  went  out  towards  the  little  Norwegian  colony 
of  fisher-folk.  She  heard  the  "good-byes";  saw 
the  sailing  away  of  the  fleet,  and  the  sudden  squall 
that  sent  the  small  boats  swaggering  before  it;  and 
she  would  go  to  the  little  cluster  of  women  assembled 
at  the  headland  and  comfort  them  with  words  of 
cheer;  and  her  later  tales  and  poems  were  set  in  the 
framework  of  a  sea,  "  that  sparkled,  or  sang,  or 
foamed,  or  threatened." 

348 


WOMAN  IN  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

As  a  rosy-faced  maiden  of  sixteen,  Celia  was  mar- 
ried to  Levi  Thaxter,  a  Browning  student,  and  a 
missionary  to  the  fisher-folk  of  an  adjoining  island; 
and  then  she  was  spirited  away  to  the  new  world  of 
Boston  which  suddenly  opened  before  her  fascinated 
vision.  There  were  pictures  and  lectures  and  con- 
certs and  operas  and  theatres.  Mr.  Thaxter,  with 
his  studious  nature,  did  not  care  for  these  things, 
but  his  girl-bride  entered  into  all  with  a  delighted 
surprise. 

She  never  had  really  thought  about  admission  to 
the  field  of  literature  until,  unbeknown  to  her,  a  friend 
sent  one  of  her  poems  to  "  The  Atlantic  "  and  it  was 
accepted;  she  was  glad  and  grateful,  and  her  genius 
unfolded  as  she  began  to  write.  Her  literary  out- 
put is  not  large,  but  what  she  did  is  full  of  exquisite 
lyrical  expression  as  "  The  Singer  of  the  Shoals," 
and  "  The  Singer  of  the  Sea."  Among  her  noted 
poems  are  "  An  Old  Saw,"  "  The  Burgomaster 
Gull,"  "  Tacking  Ship  Off  Shore,"  and  the  trustful 
"  Sandpiper."  Among  her  tales  is  "  The  Spray 
Sprite  "  that  danced  in  the  breakers,  and  talked  and 
laughed  with  the  loons,  and  then  did  patchwork  to 
the  end  of  her  days;  and  another  tale  describes 
Madame  Arachne,  and  how  as  a  child  she  peeped 
through  the  light-house  window  and  watched  the  ad- 
ventures of  the  wary  dame;  and  "  Island  Garden" 
and  "  Among  the  Shoals,"  and  letters  and  poems, 
are  all  pleasant  reading. 

349 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

Mrs.  Thaxter  spent  much  of  her  later  life  at  Ap- 
pledore,  the  largest  island  of  the  group,  where  her 
brother's  home  for  an  occasional  guest  had  developed 
into  a  hotel ;  and  this  desolate  island  — 

"With  rifts  and  charms  and  storm-bleached  jags," 

became  a  favourite  resort  for  artists,  musicians,  and 
men  of  letters,  lured  thither  by  "  The  Singer  of  the 
Shoals."  Among  others,  Whittier  came  and  Haw- 
thorne and  Ole  Bull  —  and  "  The  Singer  "  received 
them  dressed  always  in  black  and  white  and  grey 
with  sea-shells  for  her  ornaments;  and  she  entertained 
them  with  her  music,  her  verses,  or  her  charming 
conversation.  Here  she  died  and  was  buried;  and 
the  White  Island  light-house  has  disappeared  and 
been  replaced  by  another,  more  powerful  but  less 
picturesque. 

On  a  clear  day,  the  Isles  of  Shoals  are  distinctly 
visible  off  the  coast  of  Portsmouth,  and  not  far  from 
the  town  in  another  direction  is  South  Berwick, 
Maine,  the  home  of  another  authoress,  whose  early 
environment  like  that  of  Celia  Thaxter  formed  the 
subject  of  many  a  later  tale.  This  was  Sarah  Orne 
Jewett  (1849-1909),  who,  as  a  delicate  child,  was 
consigned  to  an  out-of-door  life  in  this  quaint,  sea- 
board town.  She  spent  her  days  driving  about  the 
country  with  her  doctor-father;  she  became  intimate 
with  his  patients,  and  learned  so  much  about  minister- 

350 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

ing  to  the  sick  that  she  would  have  liked  to  be  a 
physician. 

Her  wise  father  was  a  man  who  hated  all  affecta- 
tion and  insincerity,  and  with  rare  tact  he  taught 
her  how  to  cultivate  right  powers  of  observation;  and 
when  she  confided  to  him  her  desire  to  become  a 
writer,  he  advised  her  not  to  describe  people  and 
things  in  general  but  just  as-  she  saw  them  —  and  the 
more  she  looked,  the  more  interested  she  grew. 
South  Berwick  was  full  of  bronze-faced  lumbermen 
and  sailors  and  old  sea-captains;  among  the  latter 
was  her  grandfather,  and  she  always  loved  to  hear 
him  spin  his  yarns  because  he  was  "  a  perfect  geog- 
raphy in  himself." 

Sometimes  she  lingered  about  the  country-store 
to  catch  the  shrewd  and  nautical  conversations,  and 
when  she  was  about  fifteen,  city  boarders  with  artifi- 
cial ways  began  to  invade  the  town,  and  from  them 
she  gained  yet  another  viewpoint.  So  through  her 
father's  showing  the  way,  she  acquired  marvellous 
insight  into  human  nature,  thus  gathering  material 
for  her  striking  character  sketches.  Sometimes  she 
visited  her  aunt  in  Exeter,  who  lived  in  a  big  house, 
adorned  with  unbroken  china  plates,  and  huge  jugs 
by  the  fireplace. 

The  early  Berwick  home  is  yet  standing,  associ- 
ated alike  with  a  doctor's  office  and  an  author's  den, 
with  antique  portraits  and  mahogany  furniture,  and 
a  library  overflowing  with  books;  its  setting,  an  old- 

35i 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

fashioned    garden    stocked    with    fragrant    posies. 
Somewhere  in  her  reminiscences,  Miss  Jewett  says :  — 

"Berwick  always  seems  a  little  sad  even  to  me!  in  the 
wane  of  winter  the  houses  look  at  each  other  as  if  they 
said :  '  Good  Heavens,  the  things  that  we  remember ! '  but 
after  the  leaves  come  out  they  look  quite  prepared  for  the 
best,  and  quite  touchingly  cheerful." 

It  was  through  her  sympathetic  portrayal  of  New 
England  life  that  Miss  Jewett  became  known  in 
Boston  society;  and  her  most  intimate  friendship  was 
with  Mrs.  James  T.  Fields. 

Miss  Jewett  regarded  literary  work  experimental, 
its  vitality  lying  in  the  something  that  "  does  itself," 
and  she  adds:  "  There  are  stories  that  you  write  and 
stories  that  write  themselves  in  spite  of  you !  "  She 
composed  very  rapidly,  perhaps  three  thousand 
words  a  day,  and  her  tales  are  lighted  with  touches 
of  delicate  fancy;  there  is  in  them  the  fragrance  of 
woods  and  the  murmur  of  pines  and  of  tides;  por- 
traits of  courtly  New  England  dames,  and  boys  and 
girls  romancing  in  country  ways.  We  find  these  all, 
in  her  dozen  or  more  books,  among  which  the  fol- 
lowing are  prominent :  "  Deep  Haven  Sketches," 
"  The  King  of  Folly  Island,"  "  A  Marsh  Island," 
and  "  A  Country  Doctor  ";  while  of  "  The  Country 
of  the  Pointed  Firs,"  Rudyard  Kipling  once  said  to 
her:  "I  don't  believe  you  ever  really  knew  how 
good  that  work  is !  " 

352 


WOMAN   IN   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Miss  Jewett  divided  her  time  between  Boston, 
Berwick,  and  Manchester-by-the-Sea,  living  there 
much  with  Mrs.  Field.  A  woman  of  great  dignity 
and  sweetness  of  character,  it  brought  cheer  to  look 
into  her  bright,  piquant  face.  Very  typical  of  her 
selfless  spirit  is  her  remark  to  a  friend:  "  Oh,  do  let 
us  always  tell  people  when  we  like  their  work,  it 
does  so  much  goodl  " 

In  our  brief  sketch,  we  have  quoted  liberally  from 
her  own  words,  for  somehow  she  has  unconsciously 
told  the  world  just  the  things  that  the  world  wants 
to  know.  In  closing,  we  make  extracts  from  her 
letters  which  have  been  edited  by  Mrs.  Field. 
Many  of  these  were  written  to  Celia  Thaxter  whom 
she  always  addressed  as  "  Sandpiper."  After  Long- 
fellow's death,  she  eulogises  him  as  follows :  "  A 
man  who  has  written  as  Longfellow  wrote  stays  in 
this  world  always  to  be  known  and  loved,  to  be  a 
helper  and  a  friend  to  his  fellow-men." 

In  another,  she  speaks  of  Dr.  Holmes  as  "  bearing 
his  years  cheerfully  and  drawing  old  friends  closer, 
as  he  lets  the  rest  of  the  world. slip  away  little  by 
little  " ;  again,  of  Phillips  Brooks's  death  and  of  the 
more  than  Sunday-like  sleep  that  fell  over  the  city 
during  his  funeral.  An  intense  admirer  of  Tenny- 
son, she  emphasises  the  separateness  of  his  life,  com- 
paring him  to  "  a  king  of  old  of  divine  right  and 
sacred  seclusion."  And  in  expressing  her  delight 
at  meeting  him,  she  writes :  "  If  anybody  had  come 

353 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and  said:  'See  Shakespeare  with  me!'  I  couldn 
have  felt  any  more  delighted  than  I  did  about  Tenny 
son;  it  was  a  wonderful  face,  and  he  was  far  anc 
away  the  greatest  man  I  have  ever  seen !  " 

Among  other  literary  women,  there  is  Elizabeth 
Stuart  Phelps  Ward,  who  wrote  with  philanthropic 
purpose,  calling  attention  to  various  forms  of  social 
disorder;  while  her  venturesome  imagination  dis- 
played in  "  Gates  Ajar  "  and  like  subjects,  opened 
before  the  world  the  very  soul  of  the  New  England 
woman.  And  there  is  Julia  C.  R.  Dorr,  noted  for 
her  graceful  songs  and  travel  sketches;  and  Mrs 
Whitney,  whose  juvenile  stories  made  special  appea: 
to  the  maiden :  — 

"  Standing  with  reluctant  feet 
Where  the  brook  and  river  meet;" 

while  for  over  fifty  years,  Margaret  E.  Sangster  was 
counted  an  inspirer  of  home  life. 

Alice  Morse  Earl  threw  about  colonial  days  the 
spell  of  her  own  enthusiasm,  alluring  one  to  an  in- 
terest in  a  coffee-pot,  a  bit  of  lustre,  or  a  tattered 
calash;  and  in  her  gracious  company  we  stray  "  into 
old-time  gardens,  ponder  over  sun-dials  of  yesterday, 
dance  at  plantation  feasts,  grow  acquainted  with  the 
children  of  New  Amsterdam,  or  follow  the  fashion 
of  two  centurie*  of  belles  and  beaux."  And  Emily 
Dickinson  must  not  be  omitted,  and  that  "  sou> 

354 


WOMAN   IN   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

diary  "  which  she  wrote  just  for  her  own  entertain- 
ment in  her  life  of  seclusion  at  Amherst;  and  since 
her  death  her  poems  have  been  generally  read,  and 
they  contain  fragmentary  passages  of  high  inspira- 
tion that  are  more  and  more  praised  as  time  passes. 

Harriet  Prescott  Spofford  is  unique  in  this  group 
in  the  hues  with  which  she  paints  her  "  Amber  Gods," 
"  New  England  Legends,"  and  other  fancies.  She 
links  the  past  with  the  present;  for  as  "  Mistress  of 
Deer  Island,"  she  presided  over  her  river-girt 
home.  And  of  these  women  and  of  others  of  whom 
we  might  speak,  the  best  ideals  are  becoming  classics 
while  the  weak  ones  are  being  winnowed  out. 

To-day  women  are  most  active  in  the  realm  of 
letters,  grappling  boldly  with  profound  problems  and 
"  isms  "  of  every  cult.  There  are  laureates  of  the 
new  women  and  her  modern  possibilities.  The 
most  popular  subject  is  realistic  fiction.  Woman  has 
thus  far  made  her  literary  mark,  and  the  question 
naturally  arises:  "What  will  be  her  status  at  the 
end  of  another  hundred  years?  " 


THE  SANDPIPER 

"  Across  the  narrow  beach  we  flit, 

One  little  sandpiper  and  I, 
And  fast  I  gather,  bit  by  bit, 
The  scattered  driftwood  bleached  and  dry, 


355 


STORY   OF   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

The  wild  waves  reach  their  hands  for  it, 
The  wild  wind  raves,  the  tide  runs  high, 

As  up  and  down  the  beach  we  flit, — 
One  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

Above  our  heads  the  sullen  clouds 

Scud  black  and  swift  across  the  sky; 
Like  silent  ghosts  in  misty  shrouds 

Stand  out  the  white  lighthouses  high. 
Almost  as  far  as  eye  can  reach 

I  see  the  close-reefed  vessels  fly, 
As  fast  we  flit  along  the  beach, — 

One  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

I  watch  him  as  he  skims  along, 

Uttering  his  sweet  and  mournful  cry, 
He  starts  not  at  my  fitful  song, 

Or  flash  of  fluttering  drapery. 
He  has  no  thought  of  any  wrong; 

He  scans  me  with  a  fearless  eye: 
Staunch  friends  are  we,  well  tried  and  strong, 

The  little  sandpiper  and  I. 

*  Comrade,  where  wilt  thou  be  to-night 

When  the  loosed  storm  breaks  furiously? 
My  driftwood  fire  will  burn  so  bright! 

To  what  warm  shelter  canst  thou  fly? 
I  do  not  fear  for  thee,  though  wroth 

The  tempest  rushes  through  the  sky; 
For  are  we  not  God's  children  both, 

Thou,  little  sandpiper,  and  I  ?  '  " 

—  Ce lia  Thaxter. 


356 


WOMAN    IN   AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

POPPIES  IN  THE  WHEAT 
(Copyright  1892,  by  Roberts  Brothers) 

"  Along  Ancona's  hills  the  shimmering  heat, 
A  tropic  tide  of  air,  with  ebb  and  flow 
Bathes  all  the  fields  of  wheat  —  until  they  glow 
Like  flashing  seas  of  green,  which  toss  and  beat 
Around  the  vines.     The  poppies  lithe  and  fleet 
Seem  running,  fiery  torchmen,  to  and  fro 
To  mark  the  shore.     The  farmer  does  not  know 
That  they  are  there.     He  walks  with  heavy  feet, 
Counting  the  bread  and  wine  by  autumn's  gain, 
But  I, —  I  smile  to  think  that  days  remain 
Perhaps  to  me  in  which,  though  bread  be  sweet 
No  more,  and  red  wine  warm  my  blood  in  vain; 
I  shall  be  glad  remembering  how  the  fleet, 
Lithe  poppies  ran  like  torchmen  with  the  wheat." 

— H.  H. 


317 


ADDITION  OF  1922 


XXXIII 

NATURE-LOVERS — ESSAYISTS — HISTORIANS 

FIRST  we  glance  into  the  lives  of  three  nature-lovers, 
withdrawing  them  from  the  many  who  would  con- 
jure us. 

John  Burroughs  (1837-1921)  the  friend  alike  of 
children  and  grown-ups,  is  called  "The  Foremost 
Nature-lover  since  Thoreau."  He  was  born  on  an 
ancestral  farm  near  Roxbury,  in  the  Catskills — "the 
odd  child"  in  a  large  family — for  with  the  same 
environment  as  his  brothers  and  sisters  he  was  the 
only  one  to  whom  appealed  the  magic  of  nature  and 
books. 

From  early  boyhood  he  studied  the  doings  of 
birds  and  insects  and  flowers,  and  so  wise  did  he 
become  that  in  later  years  specimens  were  sent  him 
from  all  the  world  around  for  identification. 

He  was  a  school-teacher  at  seventeen  and  next 
was  employed  first  in  Washington  and  then  in  New 
York  State,  but  business  proved  irksome.  After 
1874,  he  made  his  conventional  home  at  "Riverby," 
West  Park,  New  York,  calling  himself  "a  literary 
naturalist"  and  his  occupation  "grape  culture." 

His  holidays  are  more  fully  associated  with  "Slab- 
sides,"  an  ivy-covered  cabin  further  back  among  the 

361 


STORY  OF  AMERICAN  LITERATURE 

hills.  Here  he  lived  simply,  wrote  his  books,  com- 
muned with  Emerson  and  Whitman,  and  entertained 
the  men,  women  and  children  that  visited  him,  be- 
cause they  wished  to  see  the  author  of  "Wake 
Robin,"  "Winter  Sunshine,"  and  other  books  that 
had  brought  to  them  the  lure  of  wood  and  stream. 
His  is  the  story  of  a  quiet  life  but  there  are  bits  of 
travel  interwoven.  Once  with  Mr.  Roosevelt  he 
visited  Yellowstone  Park  and  Alaska.  One  day  Mr. 
Roosevelt  said  to  him,  "Did  you  take  notes?"  And 
Burroughs  replied,  "No,  everything  that  interests 
me  sticks  to  me  like  a  burr" ;  and  it  was  three  years 
later  that  his  "Camping  and  Tramping  with  Roose- 
velt" was  published.  He  never  wrote  about  any- 
thing that  he  did  not  fully  like,  and  without  study. 

Another  inspiring  bit  of  travel  was  that  when  in 
the  great  Arizona  Desert  he  met  the  "Tall  Grizzly 
Scot,"  John  Muir,  Western  explorer  and  geologist. 
How  together  they  must  have  glorified  the  wonders 
of  mountains  and  glaciers  and  forests  and  rivers  of 
the  West  and  Southwest  and  of  the  Hawaiian 
Islands — and  how  Burroughs  loved  to  listen  to 
Muir's  racy  conversation. 

Just  one  more  glimpse  of  our  naturalist.  We  find 
him  an  elderly  man,  seated  in  "Woodchuck  Lodge" 
near  his  birthplace,  busy  with  his  pen  and  happy  in 
reminiscences  of  early  days.  And  not  far  from  the 
"Lodge"  on  "Boyhood  Rock,"  we  to-day  read  a 
memorial  tablet  on,  which  is  inscribed: 

362 


NATURE-LOVERS 

John  Burroughs — 1837-1921 
"I  stand  amid  the  eternal  ways 
And  what  is  mine  shall  know  my  face." 

W.  H.  Hudson  (1852-  ).  This  is  a  naturalist 
with  a  New  England  mother  and  an  English  father, 
but  his  name  is  added  to  this  book  of  American 
authors  because  he  is  so  remarkable.  The  privilege 
is  claimed  of  introducing  him  to  our  American  youth 
— thousands  of  whom  have  never  heard  of  him — but 
they  may  wisely  cultivate  his  acquaintance. 

Naturalist  and  novelist,  he  may  be  placed  beside 
John  Burroughs,  for  like  Burroughs  he  helps  us 
solve  nature's  secrets.  Galsworthy  calls  him  "the 
most  valuable  writer  that  our  age  has  produced." 

In  the  region  of  the  thinly  settled  pampas  of 
Argentina,  he  was  born  in  a  low,  rambling  house 
sheltered  by  twenty-five  ombre  trees,  each  a  hundred 
years  old;  and  among  the  branches  of  one  of  these 
the  restless,  inquiring  group  of  little  Hudsons  con- 
structed a  play-house. 

It  is  in  his  "Far  Away  and  Long  Ago"  that  we 
read  the  story  of  Hudson's  childhood  and  youth  in 
South  America.  It  is  almost  legendary  in  its  dream- 
like episodes  and  feeling  for  beauty,  for  from  ear- 
liest years  the  influence  of  nature  upon  him  helped 
his  mental  and  spiritual  development. 

He  would  lie  in  the  sun-dried  grass  to  see  the 
evolutions  of  the  long,  black  Argentina  serpent,  or 
again  looking  up  study  the  habits  of  the  huge  bat 

363 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

wrapped  in  buff-covered  wings,  or  watch  a  flock  of 
flamingos — "angelic-like  creatures1' — sweeping  by, 
and  like  Burroughs  he  must,  from  a  mere  child, 
have  felt  in  his  very  soul  the  melody  of  bird-song. 

Grown  to  man's  estate  he  has  for  many  years 
shown  himself  a  magical  writer  whether  in  South 
America  or  up  and  down  England.  His  genius  for 
interpreting  nature-life  is  marvellous,  with  an  ex- 
quisite love  of  beauty.  He  combines  in  his  books 
anecdotes,  bits  of  story,  and  romance. 

Among  his  books  are  "An  Old  Thorn";  uThe 
Purple  Land";  "Idle  Days  in  Patagonia";  "Birds 
in  Town  and  Village";  and  "Adventures  among 
Birds." 

Marvellous  poems  have  been  written  by  nature- 
lovers.  Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke  is  Princeton 
professor,  preacher,  essayist,  diplomat,  prose-writer 
and  poet — but  it  is  as  a  nature-lover  that  we  quote 
two  stanzas  of  his  splendid  ode,  "God  of  the  Open 
Air." 

ODE 
God  of  the  Open  Air 

I 
"Thou  who  hast  made  thy  dwelling  fair 

With  flowers  below,  above  with  starry  lights 
And  set  thine  altars  everywhere, — 

On  mountain  heights, 
In  woodlands  dim  with  many  a  dream, 
In  valleys  bright  with  springs, 

364 


NATURE-LOVERS 

And  on  the  curving  capes  of  every  stream: 
Thou  who  hast  taken  to  thyself  the  wings 

Of  morning,  to  abide 
Upon  the  secret  places  of  the  sea, 

And  on  far  islands,  where  the  tide 
Visits  the  beauty  of  untrodden  shores, 
Waiting  for  worshippers  to  come  to  thee 

In  thy  great  out-of-doors! 
To  thee  I  turn,  to  thee  I  make  my  prayer, 
God  of  the  open  air. 

VI 

By  the  breadth  of  the  blue  that  shines  in  silence  o'er  me, 
By  the  length  of  the  mountain-lines  that  stretch  before  me, 
By  the  height  of  the  cloud  that  sails,  with  rest  in  motion, 
Over  the  plains  and  the  vales  to  the  measureless  ocean, 
(Oh,  how  the  sight  of  the  greater  things  enlarges  the  eyes!) 
Draw  me  away  from  myself  to  the  peace  of  the  hills  and 
skies." 

— Rev.  Dr.  Henry  Van  Dyke. 

Among  essayists  as  among  nature-lovers  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  make  selection.  The  name  of  Agnes  Rep- 
plier  (1857-  )  is  tnat  of  a  most  gifted  essayist. 
She  is  a  native  of  Philadelphia  and  of  French  an- 
cestry and  has  spent  much  time  in  European  travel. 

She  writes  upon  a  great  variety  of  current  topics 
and  from  many  points  of  view.  She  is  never  afraid 
to  preach  high  ideals  and  her  criticisms — marked  by 
common  sense  or  sparkling  with  wit — are  always 
clever  and  helpful.  Lately  her  practical  articles  on 
education  have  evoked  much  discussion. 

365 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Many  little  volumes  have  been  published  as  the 
products  of  her  pen,  among  which  the  one  entitled 
"Essays  in  Miniature"  is  specially  charming.  Miss 
Repplier's  frequent  contributions  to  magazines  pos- 
sess lively  interest  for  the  reader. 

Samuel  McChord  Crothers  (1857-  )  is  also  an 
essayists  who  stands  forth  prominently.  He  was 
born  in  Illinois — became  a  clergyman — and  after 
several  pastorates  has  been  settled  in  Cambridge, 
Massachusetts,  since  1895.  He  has  written  several 
books  of  essays,  many  of  which  are  full  alike  of 
charm,  humour,  and  wisdom. 

Perhaps  the  collection  dearest  to  the  heart  of  the 
young  book-lover  is  either  "The  Gentle  Reader"  or 
"The  Pardoner's  Wallet." 

We  have  already  glanced  into  the  lives  of  his- 
torians from  early  colonial  times.  Now  from  a 
modern  viewpoint,  two  of  the  most  scholarly  are 
John  Fiske  and  Woodrow  Wilson. 

John  Fiske  (1842-1901)  was  born  in  Hartford, 
Connecticut.  A  precocious  boy  and  a  ravenous 
reader,  he  devoted  himself  to  legend  and  science  and 
psychology  and  history,  and  with  rare  play  of  fancy 
he  would  tell  a  story.  He  was  but  a  youth  when  he 
commenced  to  collect  a  library.  As  a  student  in 
Harvard  College  he  had  much  trouble  with  his 
tutors  owing  to  his  revolutionary  ideas. 

He  wrote  books  on  a  variety  of  topics,  but  re- 
search into  the  evolution  of  history  was  the  study  of 

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NATURE-LOVERS 

his  life,  and  he  had  vast  knowledge  on  this  subject. 
Early  periods  of  American  history  with  all  their  con- 
flicts were  to  him  as  interesting  as  the  World  War 
of  the  twentieth  century  would  be  to  the  writer  of 
to-day. 

"The  Discovery  of  America"  is  his  best  book. 
He  began  it  with  the  fables  of  a  Western  Continent, 
leading  thence  to  the  discovery  of  Columbus. 

His  "Beginnings  of  New  England"  is  most  artistic 
in  workmanship;  it  contains  a  real  portrait  gallery 
of  the  founders.  His  style  is  vivid  and  perspective 
good. 

John  Fiske  was  also  a  profound  but  noted  univer- 
sity lecturer. 

Woodrow  Wilson  (1856-  ).  Coloney  Harvey, 
in  1911,  described  Woodrow  Wilson  as  "a  highly 
Americanized  Scotch-Irishman,  descended  from 
Ohio,  born  in  Virginia,  developed  in  Maryland, 
married  in  Georgia,  and  now  delivering  from  bond- 
age that  old  Democratic  commonwealth,  the  State 
of  New  Jersey." 

Son  of  a  Southern  gentleman,  one  of  his  earliest 
impressions  as  a  boy,  was  hearing  on  the  street  the 
shouting  that  Abraham  Lincoln  had  been  elected 
and  that  there  would  be  war.  As  a  youth  he  had  a 
passion  for  the  study  of  history  and  politics.  He 
went  through  Princeton  College  and  later  was  its 
renowned  president — then  Governor  of  New  Jersey 
— and  for  two  terms  President  of  the  United  States. 

367 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

But  it  is  as  a  writer — not  a  statesman — that  he  is 
named  here.  His  state  papers,  diplomatic  messages 
and  proclamations,  have  been  noted  for  their  clear, 
forceful,  and  flexible  style,  always  maintaining  the 
traditions  of  the  best  English  culture. 

He  has  had  a  habit  of  jotting  down  anywhere  a 
note  or  two  in  shorthand,  from  time  to  time,  and 
then  with  the  inspiration  seized  him,  of  seating  him- 
self at  his  typewriter  and  shaping  his  thoughts,  sen- 
tence by  sentence. 

Among  Mr.  Wilson's  books  are  "The  Theory 
and  Practice  of  Government";  "Division  and  Re- 
union"; and  greatest  of  all,  his  five-volume  "History 
of  the  American  People."  Loving  Democracy,  he 
holds  up  fine  ideals.  It  is  a  typical  history  for  a 
true  American  to  read. 


36* 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

NOVELISTS 

IN  this  hurrying  age  the  novel  and  short  story  are 
leading  forms  of  literature,  and  publishers  are  con- 
stantly alert  for  good  plots.  The  names  of  novelists 
are  legion,  each  one  striving  to  interpret  life  in  some 
form.  A  few  write  the  sort  of  thing  that  the  world 
but  little  notes  or  long  remembers.  Others  make 
clear  and  direct  appeal  to  the  reader's  sentiment. 
We  select  illustrations  from  among  novelists  most 
honoured. 

Henry  James  (1843-1916)  may  easily  be  called 
uThe  Father  of  the  Modern  American  Novel/'  be- 
cause of  his  original  methods  of  thought.  He  was 
born  in  New  York  City  and  educated  abroad  and 
lived  in  England  most  of  his  life. 

He  wrote  many  novels,  short  stones,  and  essays. 
They  are  full  of  minute  analysis,  in  which,  with 
much  imagination  and  grace  of  style,  are  contrasted 
the  characteristics  of  people  in  the  Old  and  the  New 
World.  He  was  truly  an  "Apostle  of  Realism,"  and 
his  novels  are  international. 

He  had  very  distinct  individuality  and  wrote  with 
such  psychological  instinct  that  his  works  do  not 
generally  appeal  to  the  young;  but  we  add  his  name 

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STORY  OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

because  he  is  so  distinguished  and  has  impressed  so 
many  thinkers  in  both  England  and  America. 

Among  his  best  known  books  are  "The  Ameri- 
can";  "The  Lesson  of  the  Master";  "The  Madonna 
of  the  Future";  and  "The  Wings  of  the  Dove." 

Mrs.  Atherton — Gertrude  Franklin  Horn — 
(1857-  )  is  the  g.  g.  niece  of  Benjamin  Franklin, 
and  a  native  of  California.  She  is  an  extensive 
traveller  and  has  had  a  broad  and  fearless  outlook 
upon  life.  She  writes  with  firm  grasp  upon  her 
subject  and  independently  of  literary  rules. 

Her  novels  and  short  stones,  with  California  for 
a  background,  relating  to  its  early  history,  are  valu- 
able as  records,  especially  the  attractive  volume, 
"The  Splendid  Idle  Forties,"  describing  pictur- 
esquely the  vanishing  life  of  the  "Golden  States," 
while  in  another — quite  as  realistic — is  depicted  the 
earthquake  tragedy  of  a  later  day. 

Mrs.  Atherton  emphasises  her  political  views  in 
"Senator  North/  in  which  a  whole  scheme  of 
national  problems  in  Washington  is  ably  discussed. 

Her  most  lasting  monument,  however,  must  be 
"The  Conqueror."  In  this,  with  strength  and  pas- 
sion and  illuminating  glimpses  of  his  contemporaries, 
is  narrated  the  life  of  Alexander  Hamilton. 

More  recently,  Mrs.  Atherton  has  spent  much 
time  abroad,  and  one  of  her  contributions  to  War 
literature  is  "A  Book  of  Essays"  dedicated  to 
"Eternal  France." 

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NOVELISTS 

Alice  Brown  (1857-  )  *s  a  favourite  New 
England  writer  of  novels,  short  stories,  and  plays. 
As  a  child  she  lived  on  a  New  Hampshire  farm,  and 
after  graduating  at  Exeter  Academy  she  taught,  and 
while  teaching  studied  her  pupils,  and  later  some  of 
them  became  her  story  people. 

After  one  of  her  trips  abroad  she  wrote  a  book 
entitled  "English  Impressions'1;  and  in  connection 
with  another  trip,  in  collaboration  with  a  friend,  she 
published  a  booklet  on  Robert  Louis  Stevenson. 

She  possesses  rare  knowledge  of  the  character- 
istics of  New  England  women  and  the  customs  of 
the  country  and  has  remarkable  mastery  of  dialogue. 
These  she  embodies  skilfully  and  realistically  in  her 
plots,  which,  in  later  years,  seem  to  show  the  in- 
fluence of  Henry  James. 

Among  her  attractive  novels  and  convincing  short 
stories  are  "The  Prisoner" ;  "The  Story  of  Thyrza" ; 
"Tiverton  Tales";  "Meadow  Grass";  and  "Vanish- 
ing Points." 

Besides  prose  works  she  has  with  poetic  vision 
traced  "The  Road  to  Castaly,"  fountain  of  the  gods, 
and  this  has  received  nation-wide  attention;  and 
when  sixteen  hundred  and  forty-six  plays  were  sub- 
mitted anonymously  for  a  prize,  Miss  Brown  gained 
it — and  ten  thousand  dollars  it  was — for  her 
"Children  of  the  Earth."  Her  home  is  now  in 
Boston. 

Mrs.  Deland — Margaret  Campbell — (1857-     ) 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

was  born  in  Allegheny,  Pennsylvania.  Her  parents 
dying  in  her  infancy  she  went  to  live  with  an  aunt  in 
Manchester  in  the  same  State.  Delightful  descrip- 
tions come  to  us  of  her  childhood  days,  for  reading 
and  inventing  stories  she  dwelt  in  a  land  of  fancy. 
Ever  since  she  has  shown  wonderful  interest  in 
child-life. 

She~gives  an  amusing  account  of  her  days  at 
school,  emphasising  the  accomplishments  then 
taught.  One  of  her  earliest  literary  ventures  was 
scrawling  bits  of  verse  over  everything.  These  with 
others  were  later  woven  into  "The  Old  Garden." 

Mrs.  Deland  is  one  of  the  most  popular  and  ver- 
satile of  modern  novelists,  but  we  have  space  to 
mention  but  three  or  four  of  her  works.  In  them 
she  manifests  alike  a  sense  of  humour  and  pathos. 
She  always  represents  truth  as  higher  then  beauty, 
and  she  loves  to  deal  with  moral  and  religious 
problems. 

This  latter  trait  is  shown  forcefully  in  "John 
Ward,  Preacher,"  and  "The  Awakening  of  Helen 
Richie";  while  in  "The  Iron  Woman"  are  por- 
trayed fine  gifts  of  observation  and  construction, 
making  it  one  of  the  impressive  novels  of  the  age. 

A  most  fascinating  book  is  "Old  Chester  Tales." 
Manchester  is  "Old  Chester,"  and  the  figures  of  men 
and  women  that  might  have  lived  there  are  drawn 
with  living  distinctness,  while  Dr.  Lavendar  is  the 
link  that  binds  them  together.  He  is  one  of  the 

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NOVELISTS 

unique  types  in  American  literature.  Quaint  and 
alluring  "Old  Chester"  will  live  as  will  the  English 
"Cranford"  and  other  towns  about  which  romances 
cluster. 

In  1918,  Mrs.  Deland  went  to  France  to  work  in 
an  army  canteen  and  afterwards  she  wrote  her  uWar 
Essays."  Her  latest  publication  is  "The  Vehement 
Flame."  Her  present  home  is  in  Boston. 

Mrs.  George  C.  Riggs — Kate  Douglas  Wiggin — 
(1857-  )•  This  authoress  makes  universal  appeal 
to  the  hearts  of  the  young.  She  was  born  in  Phila- 
delphia and  as  a  clever  and  interesting  child  was  de- 
voted to  reading.  She  spent  her  girlhood  years  in 
New  England,  graduating  at  Bowdoin  College. 
Then  the  family  removed  to  California. 

With  rare  insight  into  the  hearts  of  children  she 
loved  to  tell  them  stories,  and  this  faculty  developed 
into  deep  interest  in  free  kindergartens.  Through 
her  influence  these  were  organised  in  California  and 
were  soon  known  throughout  the  West.  Educational 
movements  of  every  kind  receive  her  attention  and 
personal  effort. 

She  is  an  optimist  with  fertile  imagination  and  she 
has  the  gift  of  transforming  the  common  into  the 
beautiful. 

Her  first  book  that  captivated  the  world  was  "The 
Birds'  Christmas  Carol,"  written  in  1888.  Then  fol- 
lowed "Timothy's  Quest"  and  "Rebecca  of  Sunny- 
book  Farm,"  both  strongly  evincing  her  under- 

373 


STORY    OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

standing  of  New  England  character;  and  the  three 
"Penelope"  books,  whose  setting  was  laid  in  the 
British  Isles.  "Penelope"  is  her  grown-up  heroine. 

Perhaps  Mrs.  Riggs's  most  delightful  venture  is 
"The  Old  Peabody  Pew."  At  present  New  York 
City  is  her  residence. 

Owen  Wister  (1860-  )  is  a  Philadelphian  by 
birth.  He  is  a  graduate  of  Harvard  College  and 
has  given  his  views  of  the  life  of  a  college  boy  in  his 
"Philosophy  Four." 

He  does  not,  like  many  others,  write  up  one 
region,  but  is  versatile  in  conception  with  wide  range 
of  vision.  His  earlier  books  were  short  stories  of 
ranch  life,  and  then  stringing  Western  episodes  to- 
gether he  produced  his  most  romantic  and  popular 
work,  "The  Virginian,"  delightfully  written,  and 
holding  the  attention  from  beginning  to  end. 

With  powerful  imagination  he  pictures  fierce, 
struggling  lives  and  cruel  deeds.  The  hero  is  a 
Wyoming  cow-puncher — a  youth  of  strange  dialect, 
and  withal  such  a  crude  sense  of  justice  and  heroism 
that  he  can  inspire  the  love  even  of  the  demure  little 
New  England  school-teacher.  We  are  given  a 
glimpse  of  an  old  phase  of  American  life  that  is 
historically  valuable. 

"Lady  Baltimore"  presents  a  striking  contrast  to 
"The  Virginian"  and  shows  the  influence  of  Henry 
James.  The  plot  is  carefully  constructed  and  of 
exquisite  workmanship.  It  recalls  the  new  life  in 

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NOVELISTS 

the  South  with  the  remains  of  old  Southern  dignity 
and  custom. 

The  scene  of  the  story  is  laid  in  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  and  "Lady  Baltimore,"  by  the  way,  is  a 
delicious  kind  of  cake. 

Among  other  things,  Owen  Wister  has  written  a 
"Biography  of  General  Grant,"  and  his  "Pentecost 
of  Calamity"  is  his  contribution  to  the  World  War. 
He  is  also  a  sportsman  and  botanist.  He  resides  in 
Philadelphia. 

Hamlin  Garland  ( 1 860-  )  is  the  son  of  a  pioneer 
and  spent  his  childhood  in  the  Middle  West  when  it 
was  only  a  frontier,  and  in  his  novels  and  short 
stories  he  has  used  as  a  background  the  home  and 
the  life  of  his  boyish  days. 

In  his  "Son  of  the  Middle  Border"  he  describes 
feelingly  the  stern  drudgery  of  farm  and  camp  and 
mine,  and  he  colours  his  descriptions  in  a  most  un- 
usual way.  His  style  is  not  elegant,  but  eloquent  in 
its  realism. 

His  "Daughter  of  the  Middle  Border,"  very  re- 
cently written,  is  a  romance  of  the  same  early  day, 
portraying  the  same  rugged,  unconventional  life. 

Two  of  his  best  short  stories  are  "Among  the 
Corn  Rows"  and  "The  Creamery  Man."  He  has 
written  much  and  is  unequalled  in  his  special  field,  so 
that  one  wishing  to  study  frontier  life  in  early  times 
should  read  Hamlin  Garland. 

Mrs.  Wharton — Edith  Newbold  Jones — 
375 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN    LITERATURE 

(1862-  )  was  born  in  New  York  City  and  among 
her  educators  were  tutors,  travel,  and  wide  reading. 

On  marrying  Mr.  Wharton  she  removed  to  Bos- 
ton but  in  later  years  has  lived  very  much  abroad. 
From  a  child  she  has  always  held  high  social  and 
literary  ideals.  She  was  one  of  the  truest  disciples 
of  Henry  James,  whose  letters  show  the  intimate 
sympathy  and  admiration  that  existed  between 
them. 

In  satire  she  sometimes  rivals  Thackeray.  In 
novels  and  short  stories  she  writes  with  keen  insight 
and  intensity.  Her  art  betrays  a  wonderful  finish 
and  in  her  descriptions  is  shown  real  understanding 
of  human  nature.  Her  heroes  and  heroines  may  be 
aristocratic,  yet  many  of  them  have  but  little  heart 
and  are  menaced  by  unhappiness. 

Among  Mrs.  Wharton's  finest  novels  are  "The 
House  of  Mirth"  and  "The  Age  of  Innocence, "  the 
latter  a  story  of  New  York  society  fifty  years  ago; 
among  her  novelettes,  "Madame  de  Treymes"  and 
"Ethan  Frome." 

Her  gentle  humanity  has  been  most  truly  evi- 
denced in  her  service  for  devastated  France.  One 
of  the  very  best  of  our  War  stories  is  "The  Marne," 
most  artistically  written  in  1918.  What  a  devoted 
hero  is  Troy!  and  how  feelingly  the  author's  love 
for  France  is  expressed  when  she  says: 

"Every  stone  that  France  had  carved,  every  song  she  had 
sung,  every  new  idea  she  had  struck  out,  every  beauty  she 

376 


NOVELISTS 

had  created  in  a  thousand  fruitful  years,  was  a  tie  between 
her  and  her  children." 

Later  she  writes  with  renewed  admiration, 
"French  Ways  and  Their  Meaning." 

Winston  Churchill  (1871-  ),  a  native  of  St. 
Louis,  is  now  living  in  Cornish,  New  Hampshire. 
His  historical  romances,  upon  each  of  which  he  has 
spent  years,  with  intense  regard  for  accuracy  of 
statement,  make  him  one  of  our  most  trusted  novel- 
ists— his  setting  of  history  rather  than  his  plot  being 
his  strong  point.  His  works  are  panoramic,  each 
one  being  a  succession  of  episodes  placed  in  a  great 
era  of  American  history. 

One  of  the  first  is  "Richard  Carvel,"  a  tale  of  a 
colonial  aristocrat  in  the  time  of  the  American 
Revolution  with  Paul  Jones  as  hero — and  it  refuses 
to  be  forgotten. 

Another  is  "The  Crisis,"  a  story  of  the  Civil  War, 
and  Abraham  Lincoln  appears.  "The  Crossing" 
gives  graphic  pictures  of  the  Middle  West  with 
border  warfare  and  Indian  massacre. 

For  his  next  plot,  Mr.  Churchill  turns  to  New 
Hampshire  and  "Coniston"  represent  the  doings  of  a 
political  "boss" ;  while  "Inside  the  Cup"  is  a  religious 
novel  in  which  church  and  social  affairs  have  part. 

These  are  perhaps  the  author's  best.  He  has  few 
colourful  women  but  his  men  are  very  characteristic. 
He  is  extremely  popular  because  he  has  really  made 
the  American  historical  novel  famous. 

377 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Ellen  Glasgow  ( 1874-  )  is  a  Virginian  by  birth, 
and  nearly  all  of  her  novels,  written  with  power  and 
pathos,  have  their  setting  in  Southern  Virginia,  the 
region  with  which  she  is  most  familiar. 

Among  them  is  "The  Miller  of  Old  Church/' 
uOld  Church,"  like  Mrs.  Deland's  uOld  Chester," 
is  a  unique  town,  and  the  novel  will  preserve  the 
record  of  the  gentle  breeding  and  old-time  courtesy 
and  hospitality  of  the  typical  Southerners  that  came 
in  touch  with  the  sturdy  miller. 

Her  "Romance  of  a  Plain  Man"  represents  life 
in  the  new  South  after  the  Civil  War — the  begin- 
ning of  the  reconstruction  period.  Barriers  are 
breaking  down  between  the  working-classes  who  are 
struggling  to  rise  and  prove  the  dignity  of  labor, 
and  the  poor  aristocrats  who  have  to  meet  them. 

Miss  Glasgow's  recent  novel,  "One  Man  and  His 
Time,"  is  written  like  her  others  in  an  epic  spirit — 
epic  because  one  man  is  prominent  and  a  problem  is 
worked  out.  This  is  also  a  cleverly  wrought  novel 
of  courage. 

The  gift  of  story-telling  is,  as  one  has  said,  "in- 
born in  Ellen  Glasgow." 

She  has  no  peer  as  a  novelist,  interpreting  the 
South  in  its  transformation  period.  Her  home  is  in 
Richmond,  Virginia.  She  walks  in  her  garden  and 
thinks  out  her  plots — then  writes  behind  locked 
doors,  her  dog  her  only  companion. 

Ernest  Poole  (1880-  )  is  one  of  the  most 
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NOVELISTS 

promising  of  the  younger  authors.  A  Chicago  boy, 
he  early  showed  fondness  for  writing.  He  gradu- 
ated at  Princeton  College  and  has  spent  some  time 
abroad  as  a  magazine  correspondent.  In  1805  he 
visited  Russia  to  study  conditions  there.  On  his  re- 
turn he  lived  for  years  in  Greenwich  Village,  New 
York  City. 

He  has  always  been  interested  in  university  settle- 
ment work,  specially  in  New  York  messenger-  and 
news-boys.  Great  docks  and  warehouses  have  held 
for  him  curious  attraction  and  wherever  he  goes  he 
visits  the  docks.  So  easily  he  has  proved  himself  a 
specialist  in  writing  "The  Harbor,"  which  appeared 
in  1915.  The  first  part  of  the  book  makes  wonder- 
ful revelations  of  the  lives  of  longshoremen — the 
latter  part  turns  to  social  reforms. 

The  setting  seems  to  be  Brooklyn,  New  York,  but 
the  materials  are  really  drawn  from  a  Chicago  dock- 
yard during  a  strike. 

In  1917  he  won  the  "Pulitzer  Prize"  for  his 
novel,  "The  Family,"  awarded  because  the  writer 
had  striven  to  portray  the  best  type  of  American 
manhood. 

Mr.  Poole  was  abroad  during  the  War  and  in 
1920  the  novel  "Blind"  told  his  story  of  "the  blind- 
ing, vast  tornado,  with  the  deep  changes  that  it 
wrought." 

His  books  are  few,  but  he  writes  and  rewrites 
each  one  several  times  before  considering  it  perfect 

379 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

enough  to  offer  his  publisher — proving  the  oft- 
repeated  saying:  "Genius  is  the  capacity  for  taking 
infinite  pains." 

DRAMATISTS 

It  was  not  until  the  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth 
century — during  the  period  when  poetry  and  ro- 
mance voiced  the  aspirations  of  the  literary — that 
drama  first  took  form  in  the  United  States.  An 
early  and  unique  example  is  Longfellow's  "Closet 
Drama." 

Real  plays  had  been  supplied  from  abroad,  but 
now  came  into  notice  two  American  writers — Clyde 
Fitch  and  Augustus  Thomas.  They  devised  modern 
situations,  introduced  current  songs  and  fashions, 
and  illustrated  city  life  of  the  day,  composing  lines — 
not  for  the  reader — but  for  definite  actors  and 
actresses.  These  were  sometimes  thrilling  but  never 
profound. 

Clyde  Fitch  (1865-1909)  wrote  sixty-nine  real- 
istic plays,  in  which  the  plots  were  natural  and  con- 
sistent. Some  of  them,  like  "The  Climbers,"  were 
amusing  satires  on  city  folks.  Others  were  his- 
torical, as  "Nathan  Hale,"  "Barbara  Frietchie,"  and 
"Beau  Brummel."  The  last  was  highly  popular 
when  produced  and  is  still  quoted. 

Augustus  Thomas  (1859-1891)  also  used  up-to- 
date  material  and  told  his  story  well.  His  first  plays 
were  a  series  named  after  different  States,  as  "Colo- 

380 


NOVELISTS 

rado"  and  "Alabama,"  picturing  life  in  the  West 
and  Southwest.  He  dramatised  the  novels  of  other 
authors. 

Among  his  later  plays,  "The  Witching  Hour"  and 
"The  Harvest  Moon"  are  best  known. 

Both  Fitch  and  Thomas  had  far-reaching  influence 
on  the  increasing  group  of  succeeding  dramatists, 
who  have  evinced  more  marked  originality. 

William  Vaughn  Moody  (1869-1910)  was  alike 
a  poet  and  dramatist  in  both  prose  and  verse.  A 
son  of  the  Middle  Border,  after  graduation  at  Har- 
vard College  he  travelled  in  Europe,  taught  for 
years  in  the  University  of  Chicago,  and  died  pre- 
maturely just  as  his  genius  was  ripening. 

Some  of  his  exquisite  lyric  poetry  is  perhaps  dif- 
ficult to  understand,  but  there  are  superb  lines  run- 
ning through  it  all;  for  example,  we  quote  from 
"Heart's  Wild  Flower" : 

"What  are  the  dearest  of  God's  dowers  to  the  children  of 

his  blood? 

How  blow  the  sky,  the  wilding  flowers  in  the  hollows  of 
his  wood?" 

And  again,  the  lines  in  "An  Ode  in  Time  of  Hesi- 


tation" 


"Soon  shall  the  Cape  Ann  children  shout  in  glee, 
Spying  the  arbutus,  spring's  dear  recluse; 
Hill  lads  at  dawn  shall  hearken  the  wild  goose 
Go  honking  northward  over  Tennessee." 

381. 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Mr.  Moody's  two  forceful  prose  dramas,  "The 
Faith  Healer"  and  "The  Great  Divide,"  have  both 
been  successful  upon  the  stage.  His  cycle  of  poetic 
drama  was  unfinished  at  the  time  of  his  early  death. 
Its  Promethean  theme  is  the  unity  of  God  and  man. 

Richard  Hovey  (1864-1910)  was,  like  William 
Vaughn  Moody,  a  forerunner  of  the  School  of 
Modern  American  Poets  and  Dramatists.  Like 
Moody,  too,  he  was  born  in  the  West  and  became  in 
time  professor  in  Barnard  College,  New  York  City. 
Again,  like  Moody,  he  attempted  a  cycle  of  poetic 
drama,  his  subject  being  the  Arthurian  legends — but 
he,  also,  died  before  his  musical  cycle  was  completed. 

With  the  Canadian  poet,  Bliss  Carman,  he  wrote 
"Songs  from  Vagabondia."  Besides,  he  composed 
battle-hymns  which  were  suggested  by  the  Spanish- 
American  War. 

His  early  poems  showed  his  love  of  life  and 
comradeship — his  later  ones  soared  into  spiritual 
realms.  They  all  abounded  in  beautiful  and  pictur- 
esque lines.  His  premature  death  was  a  great  loss 
to  the  world. 

Charles  Rann  Kennedy  (1871-  )  was  originally 
an  Englishman,  but  has  become  a  naturalised  Ameri- 
can. He  has  married  a  well-known  actress,  Edith 
Wynne  Matthison,  and  she  takes  leading  parts  in 
her  husband's  plays. 

Mr.  Kennedy  has  created  yet  another  style  of 
unique  drama.  He  is  familiar  with  Greek  forms, 

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NOVELISTS 

and  his  plays  are  written  in  strictest  conformity  with 
the  three  dramatic  unities. 

They  have  symbolic  themes,  are  full  of  serious- 
ness and  poetic  fervour,  and  are  arranged  for  few 
actors.  They  should  be  studied  in  order  to  under- 
stand their  moral  force.  Probably  the  most  popular 
on  the  stage  is  "The  Servant  in  the  House. " 

Mrs.  Lionel  Marks — Josephine  Preston  Pea- 
body —  (1874-  )  was  born  in  New  York  City  but 
her  home  is  now  in  Cambridge,  Massachusetts.  She 
has  shown  in  many  ways  her  strong  interest  in  social 
progress.  Her  poetry  is  noted  for  imagination  and 
the  spiritual  tone  of  her  pure  lyric  verse.  This  is 
sometimes  a  bit  mystical. 

Among  her  well-known  poems  are  "The  House 
and  the  Road,"  beginning 

"The  little  road  says  'Go' 
The  little  house  says  'Stay'  "— 

and  her  "Ever  the  Same,"  a  tribute  to  "The  same 
little  rose." 

The  titles  of  some  of  her  volumes  are  "The  Way- 
farers" and  "The  Singing  Leaves";  also  "The  Har- 
vest Moon,"  which  is  dedicated  to  the  women  of 
France.  It  is  perhaps  in  poetic  drama  that  she  has 
best  revealed  herself  and  with  what  various  pur- 
poses have  different  dramatic  authors  worked.  Mrs. 
Marks's  effort  has  been  to  recall  Shakespeare's  day 
and  Shakespearean  form  of  plays,  and  with  this  in- 

383 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

tent  she  has  written  "Marlowe,"  the  plot  centering 
about  the  old  song : 

"Come  live  with  me,  and  be  my  love." 

Her  masterpiece,  however,  is  "The  Piper,"  and 
it  won  a  prize  offered  by  the  Stratford-on-Avon  "Me- 
morial Theatre."  It  was  produced  there  and  after- 
wards in  New  York  City.  It  presents  the  beautiful 
message  that  love  gives  us  always  the  best  things. 

Percy  MacKaye  (1875-  ).  His  dramatisation 
of  Chaucer's  "Canterbury  Tales"  and  "Jeanne 
d'Arc"  are  most  realistic,  for  the  actors  in  setting 
and  costume  and  conversation  are  so  in  accord  with 
their  day. 

Then  Mr.  MacKaye  has  devised  a  new  dramatic 
art  which  is  called  "Community  Masque."  In  this 
he  combines  drama,  pageant,  and  civic  festival,  in 
picturesque  way,  and  he  interests  whole  towns  and 
cities  in  taking  part  in  act  and  chorus. 

We  may  name  "Sanctuary,"  a  Bird  Masque,  first 
given  in  Cornish,  New  Hampshire,  in  honour  of 
President  and  Mrs.  Wilson;  "A  Civic  Masque"  in 
St.  Louis,  representing  the  one  hundred  and  fiftieth 
anniversary  of  the  founding  of  the  city;  "Caliban," 
or  Masque  in  New  York,  in  1916,  in  celebration  of 
the  "Shakespeare  Centenary."  Great  enthusiasm  is 
exhibited  by  masses  of  people  in  these  artistic 
ventures. 

These  are  but  brief  illustrations  of  the  work  of 

384 


NOVELISTS 

various  kinds  of  playwrights  to  show  the  trend  of 
drama  in  the  United  States.  New  writers  with  new 
plays  are  constantly  receiving  notice. 

One  thing  that  has  greatly  aided  the  work  has 
been  the  founding  of  a  course  for  the  study  of 
dramatic  composition  by  Professor  Baker  of  Har- 
vard College,  himself  a  noted  writer. 

His  successful  venture  was  followed  by  that  of 
Professor  Brander  Matthews  of  Columbia  College, 
the  honoured  critic  and  scholar. 

Just  now  there  is  a  struggle  for  more  freedom 
of  production.  A  protest  of  amateurs  against  pro- 
fessionals would  prove  that  literary  merit  is  worth 
more  than  money,  and  small  theatres  are  springing 
up  in  different  cities  for  the  bringing  out  of  plays. 
Is  it  possible  that  we  may  yet  discover  a  modern 
Shakespeare? 


385 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

POETS 

THE  latter  part  of  the  nineteenth  century  saw  the 
passing  of  the  singers  of  the  old  New  England  group 
of  poets  and  it  seemed,  at  first,  as  if  there  would  be 
none  to  take  their  places. 

But  presently  there  was  a  reawakened  zeal  for 
poetry  of  an  unconventional  type  that  has  appeared 
almost  a  revolt  against  that  of  an  earlier  day.  A 
new  school  of  young  and  vigorous  singers  arose; 
some  members  exploited  Walt  Whitman's  concep- 
tions; one  was  Promethean  in  his  venture;  another 
revived  Arthurian  legends ;  while  yet  others,  recalling 
Wordsworth's  and  Coleridge's  lyrical  ballads,  be- 
came "Imagists,"  surprising  the  literary  world  with 
their  "vers  libre."  They  were  not  so  particular  as 
the  New  England  group  about  rhythm  and  metre. 

Daring  to  be  original,  with  true  realism  many 
have  studied  life  rather  than  books;  sometimes  elimi- 
nating every  ornament,  they  have  reflected  the  spirit 
of  the  age  in  field  and  mine  and  factory.  Indeed, 
every  kind  of  environment  has  been  touched  upon. 

And  there  are  also  poets  with  vivid  imagination 
and  soul  power,  who,  with  artistic  beauty,  have 
written  poems  of  place  or  childhood  or  love  or  war 
or  patriotism. 

386 


POETS 

The  wonderful  developments  in  periodical  liter- 
ature have  greatly  assisted  both  poets  and  short- 
story  writers;  and  so  many  books  of  poems  are  ap- 
pearing that  it  is  difficult  to  estimate  their  literary 
value — for  not  all  poetry  is  immortal. 

We  have  space  for  only  a  few  of  the  leaders,  rep- 
resenting the  trend  of  their  work,  while  there  are 
scores  who  rightly  find  space  in  a  larger  volume. 
But  which  may  live  in  the  "Hall  of  Fame" — who 
may  tell? 

Edwin  Markham  (1852-  )  was  born  in  Oregon 
and  as  a  young  man  worked  in  California  at  farming 
and  herding  cattle  and  the  blacksmith's  trade.  Later 
he  became  superintendent  of  schools. 

One  day  a  picture  by  Millet  fascinated  him,  and 
he  wrote  some  lines  that  at  once  made  him  famous 
as  uThe  Laureate  of  Labor."  Jessie  Rittenhouse — 
herself  a  well-known  poetess — has  said: 

uEdwin  Markham  in  his  'Man  with  the  Hoe1 
sounded  the  humanitarian  labour  note  in  America, 
in  the  early  dawn  of  the  twentieth  century." 

Now  he  took  up  writing  as  a  profession,  becoming 
a  notable  figure,  both  as  poet  and  lecturer. 

In  studying  his  life  one  wonders  if  his  own  lines 
have  not  been  his  inspiration: 

"For  all  your  days  prepare, 

And  meet  them  ever  alike; 
When  you  are  the  anvil,  bear — 
When  you  are  the  hammer,  strike!" 

387 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Mr.  Markham  is  a  special  favourite  of  the  young, 
not  only  because  he  tells  a  poetic  story  so  clearly  but 
also  for  his  humour,  optimism,  and  colourful  de- 
scription. 

His*  volumes,  "The  Shoes  of  Happiness"  and 
"Gates  of  Paradise,"  are  full  of  delightful  readings. 
From  his  "Lincoln  and  Other  Poems"  we  withdraw 
"Lincoln,"  for  great  honour  has  recently  as  always 
been  accorded  this  wonderful  bit  of  hero-worship. 

Lincoln's  life  was  long  ago  honoured  at  his  birth- 
place by  a  glorified  log-cabin,  and  later  on  the  banks 
of  the  Potomac  by  a  Greek  Temple,  most  perfect  of 
architectural  structures.  On  Memorial  Day,  May 
30,  1922,  this  was  dedicated  by  President  Harding, 
in  the  presence  of  "The  Blue  and  the  Gray" — a  vast 
assembled  multitude  paying  tribute — and  here  Mr. 
Markham  read  from  his  amended  "Lincoln" : 

"A  man  to  hold  against  the  world, 
A  man  to  match  the  mountains  and  the  sea." 

The  concluding  stanza  is  as  follows : 

"And  when  he  fell  in  whirlwind,  he  went  down 
As  when  a  lordly  cedar  green  with  boughs 
Goes  down  with  a  great  shout  upon  the  hills, 
And  leaves  a  lonesome  place  against  the  sky." 

Mr.  Markham's  home  is  now  at  West  New 
Brighton,  Staten  Island,  New  York. 

Edith  M.  Thomas  (1854-  )  was  born  in  Chat- 
ham, Ohio,  and  as  a  girl,  writing  for  local  papers, 

388 


POETS 


she  elicited  the  attention  of  Helen  Hunt,  who  en- 
couraged her  to  contribute  to  current  magazines. 
She  has  written  excellent  prose  essays,  but  she  is  a 
genuine  poet  devoted  to  classic  forms.  Her  lyrics 
and  sonnets,  treating  of  love  and  life  and  nature, 
show  her  delicate  touch,  and  some  of  them  are  ex- 
quisite. The  World  War  at  first  shocked  her,  but 
it  also  inspired  her  to  write  poems  of  comfort  and 
courage. 

Among  her  many  little  volumes — which  are  liter- 
ary treasures  showing  her  careful  workmanship — 
are  "The:  Round  Year/'  "Fair  Shadow  Land,"  "A 
New  Year  Masque,"  "The  Inverted  Torch,"— while 
among  her  very  pleasing  poems  are  "The  Soul  of  the 
Violet,"  "Frost  To-night,"  uThe  Compass,"  and 
"Grandmother's  Gathering  Boneset." 

Miss  Thomas's  home  is  now  in  New  York 
City. 

Madison  Julius  Carwein  (1865-1914)  is  ranked  as 
one  of  the  most  gifted  of  American  poets.  He  was 
born  in  Louisville,  Kentucky,  and  lived  there  most 
of  his  life.  He  began  to  write  verses  while  attend- 
ing the  high  school,  reciting  them  from  the  chapel 
rostrum. 

The  freshness  and  beauty  of  the  poems  of  the 
"Kentucky  Lyrist"  as  they  came  out  in  local  papers 
early  won  special  praise  from  Aldrich,  Howells  and 
other  eminent  critics,  and  through  their  kindly  re- 
views he  gained  in  time  an  international  reputation. 

389 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

Mr.  Carwein  led  a  strictly  literary  life.  His  out- 
put was  tremendous — in  all,  thirty-six  volumes. 

A  painter  of  nature  with  an  exquisite  sense  of  the 
beauty  of  tree,  cloud,  bird,  flower  and  brook,  and 
with  romantic  imagination,  he  followed  the  mood 
of  every  season,  immortalising  in  tuneful  verse  the 
soft,  Southern  landscape.  Many  of  his  haunts  are 
still  shown  in  and  around  Louisville. 

Litsey,  leader  of  the  younger  writers,  called 
Carwein  "The  Kentucky  Woodland  Thrush." 

Among  his  numerous  publications  are  "Blooms  of 
the  Berry,"  The  Garden  of  Dreams,"  "Myths  and 
Romances,"  and  "Nature  Notes  and  Impressions." 

THE  GIPSY 

Deep  in  a  wood  I  met  a  maid, 

Who  had  so  wild  an  air 
Her  beauty  made  my  heart  afraid, 

And  filled  me  with  despair. 

She  wore  a  gown  of  gipsy  dyes, 

That  had  a  ragged  look; 
The  brown  felicity  of  her  eyes 

Was  like  a  mountain  brook. 

Around  her  hair,  of  raven  hue, 

Was  bound  a  gentian  band, 
And  from  each  tree  the  wild  birds  flew 

And  fluttered  to  her  hand. 

The  crow  sat  cawing  in  the  thorn 
As  if  it,  too,  would  greet 

390 


POETS 

Her  coming;  and  the  winds  of  morn 
Made  music  for  her  feet. 

Barefooted  down  the  wood  she  came 

Bearing  a  magic  rod 
That  left  the  leaves  it  touched  aflame 

And  aster-starred  the  sod. 

I  spoke  to  her!    "Tell  who  you  are! 

So  fair,  so  wild,  so  free! 
A  being  from  some  other  star? 

Or  wildwood  witchery?" 

She  smiled,  and,  passing,  turned  and  said: 

"You  do  not  know  me,  then? 
Why,  I  am  she  you  long  deemed  dead, 

Autumn,  returned  again!" 

— Madison  Julius  Carwein. 

By  permission  of  John  P.  Morton  and  Co.,  Louisville, 
Kentucky. 

Edward  Arlington  Robinson  (1869-  ).  His 
home  town,  Gardiner,  Maine,  is  the  "Tilbury" 
where  many  of  the  scenes  of  his  poems  are  laid.  He 
thus  has  immortalised  it  as  Mrs.  Deland  immortal- 
ised "Chester." 

He  has  experimented  in  different  kinds  of  poetry, 
among  them  free  verse.  Among  his  realistic  por- 
traits are  his  "Squire" — "Gentleman  from  Soul  to 
Crown" — and  the  optimistic,  irresponsible  "Captain 
Craig." 

39i 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

He  sees  the  characteristics  of  common  people  and 
illumines  them  in  his  lines.  He  was  a  special  fav- 
ourite with  Theodore  Roosevelt.  His  best  poems, 
"The  Master,'*  is  a  tribute  to  Abraham  Lincoln.  It 
is  found  in  his  finest  collection  of  poems,  "The  Town 
Down  the  River." 

Amy  Lowell  (1874-  )  is  a  native  and  now  a 
resident  of  Brookline,  Massachusetts.  She  belongs 
to  a  literary  family  of  which  James  Russell  Lowell 
was  a  member.  She  spent  her  girlhood  days  in  gen- 
eral reading  and  wide  travel  and  for  eight  years 
studied  forms  of  poetry. 

Then  this  woman  of  rare  mental  gifts  began  to 
write  and  volumes  of  prose  criticism  and  verse  have 
come  from  her  pen.  Working  with  fellow-poets,  a 
new  creed  has  been  propounded.  They  believe  that 
poetry  must  be  dedicated  to  beauty,  and  while  now 
and  again  they  adhere  to  classic  forms  they  depart 
entirely  from  the  views  of  the  nineteenth  century 
New  England  group  and  this  new  poetry  is  called 
"vers  libre"  or  "free  verse." 

Miss  Lowell,  as  a  lover  of  experiment,  has — with 
her  fellow-workers — thus  introduced  novel  and  strik- 
ing forms.  Among  these  is  "polyphonic — prose- 
poetry."  The  word  "polyphonic"  means  "many- 
voiced,"  and  refers  to  the  many  voices  of  poetry. 
The  word  "prose"  is  interpolated  simply  to  explain 
the  manner  in  which  this  free  verse  is  printed. 

Miss  Lowell  defines  "polyphonic — prose-poetry" 

392 


POETS 

as  "The  finest,  most  elastic  of  all  forms — for  it  fol- 
lows all  the  rules  that  guide  other  forms  and  can  go 
from  one  to  the  other  in  the  same  poem  with  no 
sense  of  incongruity."  In  all  the  "imagist  poetry" 
a  clear  image  must  be  outlined  and  rhythm  created 
to  embody  it.  Some  of  the  images  are  formed  of 
gentle  lyrics;  in  others  horror  is  invoked  to  portray 
them. 

A  poetess  of  intense  personality  and  surrounded 
by  an  impressionist  circle,  Miss  Lowell  has  made  the 
achievement  of  these  later  years  a  creative  literary 
period. 

Among  her  works  are  "Sword  Blades  and  Poppy 
Seed,"  "Tendencies  in  Modern  American  Poetry," 
and  "Can  Grande's  Castle."  The  title  of  one  of  her 
books,  "A  Dome  of  Many-coloured  Glass,"  suggests 
her  wide  variety  of  conceptions.  Apart  from  her 
originality,  she  has  surely  come  into  special  touch 
with  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Keats,  Tennyson, 
Browning,  Poe,  and  Whitman. 

Her  volume,  "Pictures  of  the  Floating  World," 
published  in  1919,  ignores  old  poetic  forms. 

POLYPHONIC-PROSE-POETRY 

But  there  is  something  more  wonderful  yet.  Set  your  faces 
to  the  Piazzetta,  people,  push,  slam,  jam,  to  keep  your  places. 
"A  balloon  is  going  up  from  the  Dogana  del  Mare,  a  balloon 
like  a  moon  or  something  else  starry.  A  meteor,  a  comet,  I 
don't  really  know  what;  it  looks,  so  they  say,  like  a  huge 
apricot,  or  a  pear — yes,  that's  surely  the  thing — blushing 

393 


STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

red,  mellow  yellow,  a  fruit  on  the  wing,  garlanded  with 
streamers  and  tails,  all  a-whirl  and  a-flutter. 

Cuts  the  strings  and  she  sails,  till  she  lands  in  the  gutter. 
"How  do  you  know  she  lands  in  the  gutter,  Booby?" 
"Where  else  should  she  land,  unless  in  the  sea  ?" 

"You're  a  fool,  I  suppose  you  sat  up  all  night  writing 
that  doggerel."  "Not  at  all,  it  is  an  improvisation." 
"Here,  keep  back,  you  can't  push  past  me  with  your  talk. 
Oh!  Look!  Look!" 

That  is  a  balloon.  It  rises  slowly — slowly — above  the 
Dogana.  It  wavers,  dips,  and  poises ;  it  mounts  in  the  silver 
air,  it  floats  without  direction;  suspended  in  movement,  it 
hangs,  a  clear  pear  of  red  and  yellow,  opposite  the  melting, 
opal-tinted  city.  And  the  reflection  of  it  also  floats,  perfect 
in  colour,  but  cooler,  perfect  in  outline,  but  more  vague,  in 
the  glassy  water  of  the  Grand  Canal.  The  blue  sky  sustains 
it;  the  blue  water  encloses  it.  Then  balloon  and  reflection 
swing  gently  seaward. 

One  ascends,  the  other  descends.  Each  dwindles  to  a  speck. 
Ah,  the  semblance  is  gone,  the  water  has  nothing;  but  the 
sky  focusses  about  a  point  of  fire,  a  foamless  iridescence 
sailing  higher,  become  a  mere  burning,  until  that  too  is 
absorbed  in  the  brilliance  of  the  clouds. 

You  cheer,  people,  but  you  do  not  know  for  what.  A 
beautiful  toy  ?  Undoubtedly  you  think  so.  Shout  yourselves 
hoarse,  you  who  have  conquered  the  sea,  do  you  under- 
estimate the  air  ?  Joke,  laugh,  purblind  populace.  You  have 
been  vouchsafed  an  awful  vision,  and  you  do  nothing  but 
clap  your  hands. 

From  "Can  Grande's  Castle." 

— Amy  Lowell. 

By  permission  of  Messrs.  Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Co. 
394 


POETS 

Robert  Frost  (1875-  )  was  born  in  California 
and  has  lived  long  in  New  England  and  for  two  or 
three  years  in  England. 

Poetry  to  him  is  a  living  language  and  he  possesses 
an  unusual  selective  memory.  His  first  volume,  "A 
Boy's  Will,"  perhaps  represents  incidents  of  his  own 
early  life  as  a  young  poetic  artist.  Two  other 
volumes,  "North  of  Boston"  and  "Mountain  In- 
terval," are  dramatic  pictures  of  the  more  serious 
side  of  New  England  life,  with  its  grim  forces  work- 
ing amid  familiar  scenes.  They  are  also  tinged  with 
the  natural  beauties  of  the  land. 

It  is  difficult  to  choose  from  many  other  poems 
which  display  fresh  creative  spirit  and  truthfulness 
of  insight.  In  "The  Death  of  the  Hired  Man"  are 
the  following  lines : 

"Home  is  the  place  where,  if  you  have  to  go  there, 
They  have  to  take  you  in." 

****** 

"I  should  have  called  it 

Something  you  somehow  haven't  to  deserve." 

In  "Mending  the  Wall,"  it  is  proved  that  "Good 
fences  make  good  neighbors."  "The  Woodpile," 
with  its  striking  closing  passage";  "The  Birches," 
"The  Pasture,"  "After  Apple  Picking,"  "The  Run- 
away"— are  all  pictorial  in  form. 

Mr.  Frost's  present  address  is  Ann  Arbor,  Mich- 
igan. 

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STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

THE  RUNAWAY 

"Once  when  the  snow  of  the  year  was  beginning  to  fall 
We  stopped  by  a  mountain  pasture  to  say  "Whose  colt?" 
A  little  Morgan  had  one  forefoot  on  the  wall 
The  other  curled  at  his  breast.     He  dipped  his  head 
And  snorted  to  us;  and  then  he  had  to  bolt. 
We  heard  the  miniature  thunder  where  he  fled, 
And  we  saw  him  or  thought  we  saw  him  dim  and  grey 
Like  a  shadow  against  the  curtain  of  falling  flakes. 
"I  think  the  little  fellow's  afraid  of  the  snow. 
He  isn't  winter-broken.     It  isn't  play 
With  the  little  fellow  at  all.    He's  running  away. 
I  doubt  if  even  his  mother  could  tell  him  'Sakes, 
It's  only  weather.'     He'd  think  she  didn't  know. 
Where  is  his  mother?    He  can't  be  out  alone." 
And  now  he  comes  again  with  a  clatter  of  stone, 
And  mounts  the  wall  again  with  whited  eyes, 
And  all  his  tail  that  isn't  hair  up  straight. 
He  shudders  his  coat  as  if  to  throw  off  flies. 
"Whoever  it  is  that  leaves  him  out  so  late, 
When  everything  else  has  gone  to  stall  and  bin, 
Ought  to  be  told  to  come  and  take  him  in." 

— Robert  Frost. 

Mrs.  Ernest  Filsinger — Sara  Teasdale — (1884-  ) 
was  born  in  St.  Louis  and  from  a  child  her  chief 
interest  has  been  poetry.  She  has  written  very  fre- 
quently for  magazines.  In  1918  a  prize  was 
awarded  her  for  her  "Love  Lyrics"  by  the  "Poetry 
Society  of  America." 

Just  to  quote  a  line  here  and  there  from  different 
poems  must  allure  us  to  seek  further  into  her  grace- 
ful conceptions, 

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POETS 

In  one  we  find 

"Blue  waves  whitened  on  a  cliff"; 
in  another, 

"Scent  of  pine  trees  in  the  rain"; 
Then  we  may  listen  to 

"The  woodthrush  twirling  three  notes" ; 
Again  there  are 

"Holy  thoughts  that  star  the  night"; 
Yet  again, 

"Shadowy  fields  of  Indian  »ummer"; 
and  lastly, 

"The  winter  snow-hushed  and  heartless." 

Among  Mrs.  Filsinger's  published  volumes  is 
"Helen  of  Troy  and  other  Poems."  Her  home, 
like  many  of  our  authors,  is  in  New  York  City. 

Alan  Seeger  (1888-1916),  student,  traveller,  and 
soldier-poet,  enjoyed  a  very  brief  but  brilliant  career. 
He  was  born  in  New  York  City  and  some  of  his 
boyhood  was  passed  in  Mexico.  Even  as  a  child 
he  loved  to  write.  His  poem,  "The  Deserted 
Garden,"  shows  his  fascination  for  the  picturesque 
Mexican  colouring. 

After  graduating  at  Harvard  College  he  spent 
four  years  in  Paris,  living  a  kind  of  Bohemian  life 

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STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

among  students.  He  had  the  gifts  of  song  and 
romance  and  wrote  there  most  of  his  "Juvenilia." 
Referring  to  his  fondness  for  the  gay  city  he  said: 

"One  crowded  hour  of  glorious  life 
Is  worth  an  age  without  a  name." 

Later  came  the  World  War,  and  joining  the 
"Foreign  Legion"  of  France  he  threw  himself  heart 
and  soul  into  the  great  adventure  and  some  of  his 
letters  and  poems  are  either  prophetic  or  commemo- 
rative. One  begins : 

"I  have  a  rendezvous  with  Death"; 
Another  is  the 

"Ode  in  Memory  of  the  American  Volunteers" 
who 

"Fell  in  the  sunny  morn  and  flower  of  their  young  years," 
and  who  had 

"That  rare  privilege  of  dying  well." 

In  one  of  the  furious  advances,  his  squad  made  a 
daring  rush.  He  was  wounded  and  now  follows  his 
famous  achievement,  for  as  he  lay  dying  he  cheered 
on.  his  comrades  by  singing  a  marching  song.  His 
life  was  given — but  the  victory  won! 

On  May  21,  1922,  high  tribute  was  accorded  Alan 
Seeger  in  France.  In  the  little  town  of  Landricourt- 
Sous-Coucy,  impressive  ceremonies  marked  the  dedi- 

398 


POETS 

cation  of  a  church-bell,  presented  by  the  "Poetry 
Society  of  America"  in  honour  of  an  American  poet. 

Katharine  Lee  Bates  (1859-  )  was  born  in  Fal- 
mouth,  Massachusetts,  and  graduated  at  Wellesley 
College,  and  for  years  has  been  a  member  of  the 
faculty.  She  has  travelled  and  studied  much  abroad. 
She  is  a  versatile  writer  in  prose  and  poetry,  alike 
for  children  and  older  readers. 

Among  her  numerous  works  are  "College  Beau- 
tiful and-  Other  Poems,"  "Lectures  on  English  Re- 
ligious Drama,"  "Stories  of  Chaucer's  Canterbury 
Tales" — retold  for  children,  "In  Sunny  Spain,"  and 
from  "Gretna  Green  to  Land's  End." 

In  appreciation  of  her  scholarly  culture  as  teacher, 
lecturer  and  author,  honorary  degrees  have  been  con- 
ferred upon  her. 

We  remember  how  Francis  Scott  Key  and  Julia 
Ward  Howe  at  once  attained  international  fame  by 
a  single,  patriotic  poem ;  and  the  name  of  Katharine 
Lee  Bates  is  added,  for  her  "America  the  Beauti- 
ful" is  also  sung  on  public  occasions  all  the  world 
around,  and  the  following  is  her  description  of  its 
inception. 

In  1893,  she  was  with  other  Eastern  instructors 
teaching  in  a  summer  school  at  Colorado  Springs, 
right  under  the  purple  range  of  the  Rockies.  Among 
the  expeditions  taken  was  one  to  Pike's  Peak.  There 
in  one  ecstatic  gaze  over  the  vast  sea-like  expanse, 
the  opening  lines  of  the  hymn  floated  into  her  mind, 

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STORY   OF  AMERICAN   LITERATURE 

and  before  leaving  Colorado,  the  four  stanzas  were 
pencilled  in  her  note-book.  Later  she  revised  the 
poem,  making  its  phraseology  more  simple  and 
direct,  and  she  adds: 

"That  the  hymn  has  gained  in  all  these  years  such 
a  hold  upon  the  people  is  clearly  due  to  the  fact  that 
Americans  are  at  heart  idealists,  with  a  fundamental 
faith  in  human  brotherhood." 

AMERICA    THE    BEAUTIFUL 

"O  beautiful  for  spacious  skies, 

For  amber  waves  of  grain, 
For  purple  mountain  majesties 
Above  the  fruited  plain! 

America !     America ! 
God  shed  his  grace  on  thee 
And  crown  thy  good  with  brotherhood 
From  sea  to  shining  sea! 

O  beautiful  for  pilgrim  feet, 

Whose  stern,  impassioned  stress 
A  thoroughfare  for  freedom  beat 

Across  the  wilderness! 
America !     America ! 

God  mend  thine  every  flaw, 
Confirm  thy  soul  in  self-control, 

Thy  liberty  in  law ! 

O  beautiful  for  heroes  proved 

In  liberating  strife, 
Who  more  than  self  their  country  loved, 

And  mercy  more  than  life! 
400 


POETS 

America !    America ! 
May  God  thy  gold  refine 
Till  all  success  be  nobleness 
And  every  gain  divine! 

O  beautiful  for  patriot  dream 
That  sees  beyond  the  years 
Thine  alabaster  cities  gleam 
Undimmed  by  human  tears! 

America !     America ! 
God  shed  his  grace  on  thee 
And  crown  thy  good  with  brotherhood 
From  sea  to  shining  sea!" 

— Katharine  Lee  Bates. 


401 


AFTERWORD 

Edward  Garnett — an  apostle  of  interpretative 
criticism — makes  the  following  prophecy: 

"I  believe  firmly  that  American  literature  will 
count  many  great  original  achievements  within  a 
couple  of  generations.  All  the  pith  and  sap  of  a 
great  literature  are  there,  and  a  ferment  of  spiritual 
force  which  sooner  or  later  must  burst  into  flower. 

"There  is  the  mingling  of  many  races  out  of  which 
a  great  world  literature  must  grow,  but  it  must  be 
founded  on  a  true  American  spirit." 

America  has  found  herself  and  in  many  ways 
presents  her  claim  to  the  soul  of  the  world.  Think 
of  her  scientific  wizardry — how  the  President's  voice 
by  wireless  circles  the  earth!  Can  our  imagination 
lead  to  what  in  the  coming  years  may  be  the  achieve- 
ments of  our  American  authors? 

We  pause  just  here  in  our  brief  and  simple  "Story 
of  American  Literature,"  for  we  may  not  attempt 
to  interpret  the  unrounded  lives  of  any  of  the 
younger  living  authors,  many  of  whom  are  already 
striking  an  individual  note, 


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